


Lies & Misdemeanors

by Kimikochan



Category: Veronica Mars (TV), Veronica Mars - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:08:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 63,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26668720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kimikochan/pseuds/Kimikochan
Summary: Logan & Veronica begin to rebuild their relationship when an old foe resurfaces, plunging them into another mystery.
Relationships: Logan Echolls/Veronica Mars
Comments: 38
Kudos: 64





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> Lies & Misdemeanors is a very old story of mine that I originally posted on LiveJournal. I was recently urged to repost here on AO3 by someone who'd read it for the first time - 13 years after I'd written it. I'm always shocked to find people still reading my stuff after all this time, but I suppose that's the beauty of the Internet. With everything that's been going on lately - sheltering in place in a state that's on fire, unable to go outside for even an evening stroll because the air quality is so poor, not to mention the sorry state of our country's leadership - this person's message out of the blue was a much needed silver lining. Thank you, AlltheVMFF!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veronica is hiding things from Logan, and when she takes off without explanation for a case, he has to do some sleuthing of his own to find her.

Veronica stared at her image in the mirror, frowning as she grasped the gold tassel swinging from the mortarboard atop her head. She could never remember on which side the darn thing was supposed to hang – right or left – but knew it was an important distinction on a day rife with pomp and circumstance.

After four years of all-night study sessions, cramming for finals, endless hours in the library meticulously researching papers, not to mention the constant juggling of work, cases, and classes, Veronica Mars was a college graduate.

She was elated - and scared shitless.

Her future stretched before her – like that stupid cliché about the first day of the rest of your life – and Veronica hated to admit the uncertainty frightened her. On one hand, graduating at the top of one’s class gave a girl options. On the other, she had some decisions to make, and not everyone would be happy with her choices …

“For someone graduating summa cum laude, you could at least get the tassel thing right,” a low, masculine voice drawled from the doorway.

Veronica could hear the smirk in Logan’s voice, and her lips curved reflexively as she pictured his lanky frame leaning against the doorjamb, a Cheshire cat grin on his handsome face. Still smiling, she turned, her chin jutting out defiantly.

“Oh please, like those stuffy Hearst academics are really going to care. What can they do? Take away my diploma? Just let ‘em try,” Veronica said, flippantly, watching as Logan pushed away from the wall and crossed the room.

“How ‘bout sweep down from their ivory towers and take back all these gold gee gaws you’ve got on?” Logan flicked the braided cord at her shoulder for emphasis, but pride and affection softened his mocking tone. Gazing down at her, he brushed her cheek with the back of his hand as Veronica tilted her head and pressed her lips to his.

It was supposed to be a quick kiss, but she couldn’t resist lingering, savoring the feel of his warm mouth and reveling in the way Logan’s touch aroused and comforted simultaneously. Reluctantly, Logan broke off the kiss and cleared his throat, nodding his head towards the Mars’ living room. “Your dad sent me to get you. I think he’s in a hurry.”

Veronica smiled fondly. “He’s been chomping at the bit all morning. He wants to get there at least two hours before the ceremony to get a good seat. I’m just worried he’s planning a twenty-one gun salute.”

“He really gets a kick out of all this commencement hoopla, doesn’t he?”

“Yes, he does. And so do I. Don’t think for a second you can wiggle out of it,” Veronica warned, taking in Logan’s slightly wrinkled slacks and dress shirt. “You did remember to bring your cap and gown, right? And a tie?”

“You know, you’ve gotten a lot bossier since your dad got elected sheriff.”

“And you’ve gotten a lot messier since you moved out of the Grand. Now, about your cap and …”

“…Don’t worry, everything’s in the car. Can we go now?”

Satisfied, Veronica turned back to the dresser and began fishing through her jewelry box. “Hold your horses. A girl is entitled to a little primping once in a while.” Just as she was slipping on an earring, her cell phone chirped from across the room. “Can you …?”

Wordlessly, Logan handed her the phone. Veronica tensed when she recognized the number on the caller id screen. She stared at it for a moment, letting the phone ring.

“Veronica? Aren’t you going to get that?” Logan’s questioning gaze turned to concern after several seconds had passed and Veronica remained silent. “Who is it?”

“No one,” she answered, belatedly, striving to sound carefree. “We should go.” She hurriedly clicked off her phone and sidestepped past Logan, hoping to avoid rousing his protective streak. But it was too late. Logan’s fingers curled around her arm, his grip gentle yet effective in blocking her flight.

“Who do you know in San Francisco?” he persisted, ignoring her irritated sigh.

“I don’t know anyone in San Francisco. It’s nothing. We really need to get going.”

“Veronica, I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s going on. Is someone bothering you?”

“Besides you?” she sniped, immediately regretting her bitchy tone.

Logan ducked his head and looked away, trying to rein in his annoyance. It boggled his mind the way things between them could go from pleasant to pissy in .3 seconds flat.

He was debating what to say next, when Veronica touched his arm in mute apology. The remorse he saw in her eyes immediately flooded him with guilt. You’re a selfish prick, Echolls. Only he would pick a fight on what was supposed to be a day of celebration.

Abashed, Logan flashed a small smile. “Do you wanna just save this for later? There’s always the chance I’ll forget.”

Veronica paused to consider the compromise, shrugged and shook her head. “It’s no big deal, really,” she said, glancing at the door and lowering her voice. “For the past couple of weeks, someone’s been calling and hanging up, that’s all.”

“Could it be one of those automated telemarketing calls?” Logan asked.

“It could.”

“But you don’t think so.”

“No,” Veronica said slowly. “I think … the last I heard, my mother was in San Francisco.”

Startled, Logan was silent for several moments, knowing he had to tread lightly. “I didn’t realize you knew where your mom was,” he said carefully.

“I didn’t … at least not for sure. But the calls, and the timing – right before graduation – kind of confirms it. She did the same thing the first time she split.”

“So, if you know it’s your mom, why didn’t you pick up earlier?”

“She isn’t part of my life. She hasn’t been for a long time.” The edge was back in Veronica’s voice. “I’m all grown up, now. I have no use for a mother, let alone a deadbeat alcoholic one.”

Logan reached out a soothing hand. “Isn’t that kind of harsh, Veronica? She is your mom. Sure, she fucked up. Big time. But …”

“…But what, Logan? She fucked up. Period.”

“I know. It’s just … she wasn’t all bad. She did bake killer cookies, and she invited me for dinner every time my parents took off for Timbuktu, or wherever the hell they went.” Logan paused. “So maybe … you could give her another chance. I know you miss her, or you wouldn’t have looked for her.”

“Do you miss your dad?” Veronica asked bitterly. “If he’d made you a nice dinner, and said he was sorry for everything, would you have given him a second chance?”

“The best thing my father ever did for me was get himself killed. So, no, I don’t miss him. But that’s a totally different situation, and you know it, Veronica.”

“Maybe.” She looked away, and he could see she regretted confessing her little secret. “But I’m not the kind of person who just forgives and forgets.”

“You forgave me,” Logan said quietly.

But Veronica didn’t answer as she picked up her purse and left the room.

**********

_“Have you ever been with a hooker?”_

_“…What?”_

_Logan blinked at Veronica from across the pillow. Body sated, he’d been content to drift off to sleep, one arm draped possessively over her silky, sexy, bare hip, her nipples grazing his chest, when she’d penetrated his fog with her left-field inquiry._

_He met Veronica’s solemn gaze. Her hands were tucked under her cheek and she had the sheet pulled up so it just barely covered the swell of her breasts. Her pale skin was still flushed from their earlier lovemaking and he could see faint scratches from where his rough, five-o’clock shadow had marred her flesh._

_“It’s a simple question, Logan. Have you. Ever. Paid. For. Sex?”_

_“Hmmm … I’m kind of paying for it right now.” Logan grinned as she kicked him lightly under the covers._

_“But seriously folks - have you?”_

_He sighed, dread quickly replacing his good humor. “Why does it matter? Isn’t it enough that I love you?”_

_“I just want to know. I assume the answer is yes. Look at it as an opportunity for me to show you how cool I can be. Hooker? Who cares?”_

_“Well, here’s your chance to be cool. Stop asking.”_

_“I just want to get to a place with you where we’re really … intimate.”_

_“Is it really intimacy you want, or is this just your compulsion for digging? Everyone’s a sinner if you dig deep enough, and you know plenty of my sins as it is.”_

_“I’m just saying, buried secrets tend to surface when I’m around. I’m giving you the chance right now to come clean. You tell all. I tell all. Go from there.”_

_Logan stared at Veronica, then reluctantly surrendered. “Fine. Ask away. Ask anything you want.”_

_“Have you ever been with a hooker?”_

_“No.”_

_A smile spread across Veronica’s face as she realized she’d been had. Logan couldn’t help a smug chuckle._

_“You want to ask me anything?”_

_“Do you know where Duncan is?”_

_Veronica blinked, hesitating ever so briefly before she shook her head. “No, I don’t,” she answered. “Do you ever see Kendall?”_

_“Kendall who?”_

_“Logan …”_

_“No. Why would I? You’re all I want.”_

_Pleased, she traced Logan’s calf with her toe, gently teasing him. “Your question.”_

_“You can have my turn.”_

_“Were you with anyone while we were broken up?”_

_He considered lying to her and his lips moved imperceptibly to deny it. But he knew she’d inevitably discover the truth. At least this way, they’d both find out whether she could really love him – warts and all. He swallowed, slowly withdrawing his hand from her hip._

_“I slept with this horrible girl who meant less than nothing to me and I totally regret it. Thinking about it makes me ill,” he said, his stomach clenching as she turned away from him.._

_“Who was she?” Veronica’s voice was calm but terse, and he knew it didn’t bode well._

_“No one you know. Just someone I met when Dick and I were in Aspen … I know you don’t understand, but it was just sex, Veronica. I wasn’t trying to hurt you. It was Christmas, I was missing you … I was just … lonely.”_

_Logan stopped. He could see, from the rigid way Veronica was clutching the sheet to her chest, she was no longer listening. With a sigh, he turned onto his back and stared blankly at the ceiling above._

_“So there you go. Instant intimacy,” he said, grimly. “Still love me?”_

_Veronica’s long silence was answer enough._

_Numbly, Logan got out of bed and retrieved his boxers from the floor. He jerked them on with one tug and retreated to the bathroom, where he braced his hands on the counter. He studied his image in the mirror, and noted with disgust that he had his father’s eyes._

_“Like chocolate and brandy, my boy,” Aaron used to say. “Gets the ladies every time.”_

_The memory sickened Logan. He ran the faucet and splashed water on his face, letting the tap run until he thought he heard the door click shut._

_He didn’t have to look to know Veronica was gone._

_The next morning, he rose before dawn, tormented by dreams of bloodied belts and Lilly’s mocking eyes. Desperate to escape the suite’s confines, Logan grabbed his keys and, a few minutes later, he was cruising along the Pacific Coast Highway._

_Logan drove for hours, blindly navigating the road’s curves until, exhausted, he pulled into a beachside park somewhere north of Malibu. From his Range Rover, Logan watched surfers riding the ocean waves and families playing on the beach._

_His heart constricted painfully at the sight of two lovers necking behind a rock. Knowing it was a mistake, he reached for his phone and dialed Veronica’s number, but after several rings, it went to voicemail, a sure sign she was ignoring him._

_He cursed bitterly. He had only himself to blame –it certainly wasn’t Veronica’s fault. If her nature was to mistrust, than his was to hide the truth. Logan had learned how to be a good liar at an early age out of necessity; it had served him well, gotten him out of many a beating._

_But with Veronica, those same survivor’s instincts were his downfall. Bleakly, he thought of Mercer’s burning hotel room, and knew he was fucked no matter what he did._

_Eventually, fatigue took over and he shut his eyes and slept. When Logan woke, the sun was setting over the Pacific Ocean and the beach was empty. He dreaded returning to an empty suite, where it was too easy to relive scenes from his latest break-up. But he didn’t have anywhere else to go, so Logan turned the ignition and reluctantly headed home._

_By the time he finally got back to the Neptune Grande, his stomach was growling painfully, and all he wanted to do was scarf down a burger before collapsing into bed. Wearily, he trudged into the elevator and rested his head against a wall until he heard the doors chime._

_Logan was halfway down the corridor when he saw the small form huddled on the floor by his suite._

_Veronica._

_She stood, and as Logan warily approached, he began listing all the reasons for her presence, like picking up her stuff, or officially announcing they were through. Then again, maybe she just wants to tell me to my face that she hates me with the fire of a thousand suns, he thought._

_But when Logan came to a stop several feet away, carefully keeping his distance, he was surprised to see relief, not anger, on her face. He couldn’t stop his heart from lurching hopefully._

_“I never answered your question.”_

_“My …?” For a moment, Logan was confused, his muddled brain refusing to rewind fast enough. Then it came to him, and he held his breath, waiting._

_“Yeah,” she said, a tremulous smile on her lips. “I do.”_

**********

Veronica pushed through the sea of black polyester, dodging flashing cameras and squeezing past proud families embracing their graduates. She’d long ago lost sight of Logan, who’d been sitting several rows away with the rest of the liberal arts majors, but she wasn’t worried about her errant boyfriend. Logan always managed to find her, even in a crowd.

Even when she didn’t want to be found.

She craned her neck, looking for her dad, and sighed irritably when all she could see was a mass of unfamiliar bodies scurrying about the grassy field where the commencement ceremony had been held. All around her, other graduates were chortling with glee, shouting and slapping each other on the back. The cacophony was giving Veronica a headache.

Then again, she’d been tense since the moment she opened her eyes that morning. Veronica’s anxiety about the future had been mounting for weeks now, spoiling what was supposed to be her big day – not to mention Logan’s. She had no right to snap at him the way she did, especially when he was only trying to be supportive. Guiltily, she vowed to make it up to him later.

So Veronica, should you apologize for being a total witch before, or after, you tell Logan you’re leaving Neptune and moving 3,000 miles away to join the FBI?

She’d been forestalling any discussion about their future since Christmas, when Logan first proposed spending the summer in Europe.

“You’ve been working your ass off for four years, now. You deserve a break, Veronica,” he’d campaigned. “Let me do this for you … Besides, you’d love all that fancy art crap they’ve got stashed at the Louvre.”

At first, she was just reluctant to let Logan pay for everything. But as graduation approached and Veronica was faced with deciding what to do with her life, she hadn’t wanted to commit to spending an entire summer flitting about Europe. She’d applied to criminology graduate programs at UCLA and UCSD, and even took the LSAT in case she decided to go the law school route. Veronica had also looked into a few internships with some of the local law enforcement agencies.

Then one of her professors told her about a new FBI internship set to begin in the fall. It was an extended version of the agency’s long-established summer program and those who successfully completed the intense, six-month training were virtually guaranteed admission into the FBI National Academy – in Washington, D.C. Her acceptance letter arrived in the mail on the last day of spring break, the same day Logan presented her with the entire DVD collection of Rick Steves’ Europe Through the Back Door.

Veronica had yet to break the news to Logan.

It had been hard enough to get her dad to sign on. Keith Mars was less than thrilled with the idea of his little girl carrying a badge and gun, and chasing down the nation’s worst criminals.

“Tell me again, what’s so bad about law school?” he’d asked, before grudgingly giving his blessing.

Truthfully, Veronica hadn’t completely made up her mind, yet. Graduate school was still an option – she’d gotten into two top-notch programs right here in Southern California - and she had until the end of summer to decide. It would’ve been an easy decision if Logan weren’t in the equation, which was why she still hadn’t told him about the FBI thing. She knew he would react badly and didn’t want the added pressure.

Veronica was not one of those women whose major life decisions revolved around the men they dated. If it were up to Logan, we’d be a couple of beach bums living in a million dollar grass hut somewhere in Mexico.

For a while now, Veronica had been wondering if they even had a future together.

Four years at one of the state’s top private colleges hadn’t changed Logan much. He’d earned passing grades while doing the bare minimum of work, and despite the diploma, he was still adrift.

“I’m set for life, Veronica. Why do I need to work for a living?” he’d argued whenever she tried to coax him into finding something meaningful to do with his life.

His wasted potential had been the source of many window-rattling fights over the years. Now, Veronica questioned how long she could stay with someone whose sole purpose in life was to catch the next big wave.

But she couldn’t bear the thought of leaving him.

Veronica pushed aside a sudden, sharp sadness and surveyed the crowd again. She turned just as Logan snaked his arm around her waist, dipping his head to kiss her cheek.

“You look lost.” Logan’s warm breath tickled her ear and, for an instant, Veronica thought he was reading her mind.

“Just looking for my dad,” she said, arms encircling his neck.

Their mouths met and she could taste the too sweet, bubblegum-flavored toothpaste she always teased him for using. But all thoughts of dental hygiene were soon forgotten, as Logan deepened the kiss and began steering her towards the bleachers in that unerring, sweep-a-girl-off-her-feet way of his.

When they were safely hidden from view, Veronica pulled back to look him in the eye, threading her fingers in his hair. “About earlier,” she began.

“…Already forgotten,” Logan murmured, brushing loose strands of hair from her face before eagerly pressing his lips to a ticklish spot on her neck.

She chuckled and surrendered to his ministrations. “You are so easy, Echolls.”

"Back at ya, Mars.”

They kissed uninterrupted for a few more minutes, until she finally broke away and breathlessly reminded him her father was probably looking for them. “He’s a pretty good detective. The bleachers won’t fool him for long.” Sure enough, Logan and Veronica had barely emerged, hands clasped, when she heard Keith’s voice.

“Congratulations, honey! I’m so proud of you,” he said, sweeping her into a hug. “Summa cum laude, folks! Summa cum laude. She gets her brains from me, you know.”

“Dad!” Veronica laughed.

Keith released his daughter and shook hands with Logan. “You both did great,” he congratulated the young man before giving Veronica another squeeze.

“Thanks, Mr. Mars, but I barely got through, unlike Miss Smarty Pants over here.”

Veronica was about to say something, when she spotted a familiar tow-headed surfer making his way towards them, stopping only briefly to swat a leggy blonde on the butt. Veronica rolled her eyes and inclined her chin in his direction.

“Then again, this is Hearst not Harvard. Here, they hand out diplomas to any Tom, Harry, or …”

“Logan! Ronnie!” Dick Casablancas sauntered over, grinning from ear to ear. He raised his hand and slapped it against Logan’s in a high-five salute. “Sheriff Mars. Pleasure to see you again.”

“Dick,” Keith nodded in greeting, just as the phone clipped to his belt began to ring. He excused himself to answer it.

“Dick, where’d you steal the cap and gown from?” Veronica couldn’t resist asking. “You don’t expect us to believe you actually graduated, do you?”

“I’ve got the paper to prove it, Ronniekins.” Dick unfurled the scroll every graduate had been given, only to reveal a blank piece of paper.

“Dude, they send your diploma in the mail,” Logan snickered.

“Oh, whatever. The point is we’re done. It’s over. Finito. ‘No more classes, no more books. No more teachers’ nasty looks,’” Dick sing-songed.

“No more sorority girls,” Logan quipped, earning a swat from Veronica. “What? I never went out with a sorority girl…. Unless you count the time you were undercover and we …”

“Logan!”

“… ate tacos in the food court,” he smirked, brown eyes twinkling with mischief.

Veronica raised a finger in warning, but the smile spreading across her face rendered the gesture an empty threat. Even four years after an unknown assassin forever ended the torture Aaron Echolls could wreak upon his son, Veronica still rarely saw glimpses of the impish rogue Logan had once been.

One by one, the disastrous events that comprised their last year of high school had taken their toll on him. Logan had survived, but sometimes Veronica sensed he was still carrying around some terrible weight. So she treasured the fleeting times when Logan’s boyishness resurfaced.

“Catch you lovebirds later.” Dick swaggered off.

Keith rejoined Logan and Veronica a few minutes later, clapping his hands and rubbing them in anticipation.

“Hey kids, you ready to go celebrate those brand, spanking new diplomas of yours?” he asked. “I got us reservations at some high fallutin’ joint on the wharf.”

“Great. I’m starved!” Veronica slipped her hand into Logan’s and the trio left Hearst.

An hour later they were tucking into their entrees, enjoying an ocean view as the sun began its slow descent. They joked about the windbag whose long, drawn-out commencement speech threatened to put everyone to sleep, and Logan repeated gossip he’d heard about a Hearst regent who might be making a bid for the Balboa County Board of Supervisors.

When Keith’s plate was empty, he pushed it away and sighed contentedly, before turning to Logan. “So, Veronica hasn’t said anything about your future plans. Are you doing the grad school thing, too, Logan?”

Veronica tensed. She’d been dreading this little conversation. If Keith hadn’t been happy with her choice of vocation, he certainly wasn’t going to be pleased to hear Logan had no job and no prospects.

“Logan is going to do a little bit of traveling before he looks for a job,” Veronica supplied, forcing her voice to sound casual.

“Oh? Where are you going?”

"Uh, I was thinking of Europe,” Logan answered, flashing Veronica a look.

“Good choice. You know, I’ve always wanted to check out a real English rugby match. Veronica’s mom and I were supposed to go one year, but then I caught that E-String Strangler case, and we had to cancel our trip.”

“I never knew that, Dad. How come you didn’t go later?”

Keith shrugged. “Something always came up. Which is why I say, travel when you’re young. Now, what do you say about dessert?”

They polished off plates of chocolate mousse, strawberry shortcake, and passion fruit sorbet, washing it all down with shots of espresso. Keith paid the bill and they left the restaurant. When they reached his car, he kissed his daughter on the cheek.

“You kids have fun at your party,” he said, shaking Logan’s hand. “But be careful, okay?”

“We will, Dad. I’ll be home late, so don’t wait up, okay?”

“Kiddo, I’m way too old to be waiting up for my college graduate daughter.” But they both knew he would.

Later that night, after most of the guests had gone home and the remaining ones were passed out on the floor, couch or patio recliners, Veronica collapsed onto Logan’s bed, exhausted and still slightly buzzed. When she heard running water in the connecting bathroom stop, she closed her eyes, waiting for Logan to join her.

She smiled when she felt the mattress shift under his weight.

“Hey, gorgeous,” Logan said softly, molding his body to hers. “You’re not asleep yet, are you?”

"No … I was waiting for you,” she purred.

“Hmmm … what do you have in mind?”

“Why, presents, of course. What did you think?” Veronica laughed, escaping his grasp. She made her way to her bag, and took out a wrapped box. Eagerly, she handed it to him and sat cross-legged on the bed, watching as Logan ripped apart the brightly colored paper.

“It’s a camera – for Europe. All you have is that sorry excuse of a camera phone. This one is small and easy to use, but still has a zoom lens. So, what do you think?”

“It’s great, Veronica. I love it. Thank you … But, I was sort of hoping you’d be the designated photographer.”

“Even if I were, you’d still need your own camera,” she evaded.

“Your dad doesn’t know anything about Europe, does he?”

Veronica sighed and shrugged. “I haven’t agreed to go, yet.”

“Does that mean it’s still on the table? ‘Cause if it isn’t, I’d better go shopping for your graduation present tomorrow,” Logan grumbled.

“Yes, it’s still on the table.” She smiled, and leaned over to kiss him.

After a few moments, he drew back and cupped Veronica’s face, regarding her seriously. “Good, because I’ve got something else I’d like to put out there,” he began, hesitantly. “The lease here is up soon and I’ve been thinking of buying a place of my own …”

“That’s a really good idea. Real estate is always a good investment, or so I hear.”

“Yeah, well, I thought maybe we could look for a place together. You know, shack up, live in sin, cohabitate. What do you say?”

Stunned, Veronica sat back, fighting her sudden panic. “I can’t live with you, Logan. I don’t even know what I’m going to be doing after this summer, let alone where I’ll be living.”

“What are you talking about?” he asked, frowning, his voice beginning to rise. “I thought you wanted to go to grad school here, in Southern California?”

“I do,” she said, cursing her lack of tact. “It’s just, there are other opportunities I want to consider, too.”

“Like what? This is the first I’ve heard about ‘other opportunities.’”

Veronica turned away, letting her legs dangle over the edge of the bed, and took a deep breath. “I’m thinking of taking an internship with the FBI. If it works out, I could get into the academy…in D.C.”

Logan grew still as he stared at her. “How long have you known about this?” he finally asked.

“…A few months,” she admitted, turning her head to face him.

“A few months!” Logan jumped from the bed and stalked across the room, beginning to pace. “Were you planning on telling me? Or were you just going to send me a postcard from D.C.?”

“Of course I was. I just – didn’t know how.”

“Christ, Veronica, when are you going to stop hiding these things from me?” Logan whirled to face her, shaking his upturned hand in an angry plea. “It drives me crazy the way you’re always trying to get me to tell you all my deep, dark secrets, and then you turn around and pull a stunt like this.”

“Don’t you think you’re exaggerating just a bit, Logan? It’s not like I’ve been living a double life – student by day, stripper by night. I just wasn’t ready to talk about it, yet.”

“You mean like how you didn’t want to talk about your mom? Or tell your dad about Europe? These aren’t trivial details you mark off on a to-do list, Veronica.”

“Like you’re always so open and honest with me? I can just imagine the things you haven’t told me,” Veronica countered stubbornly. When she saw his face darken, she realized she’d gone too far. “Look, I’m sorry. You’re right. I should’ve said something sooner.”

Logan’s temper abated, but she could see he was still smoldering. He sat back against a dresser and expelled a shaky breath. “I love you, Veronica,” he said, struggling to control his voice, his eyes boring into hers. “But, if you don’t love me … or you don’t want to be with me anymore, you should tell me now.”

“It’s not that, Logan,” Veronica said softly, fear pricking her heart. “I’m not sure what I want to do, yet, and I wanted to make up my mind before I said anything … I just need a little more time, okay?”

Slowly, he nodded. “I don’t want to hold you back, Veronica. I know you’ve got a great future ahead of you. I just want to be part of it.”

What was left of Veronica’s pique dissipated, and she stood, her breath catching as she stepped into Logan’s arms. “I know,” she said, her voice muffled as she rested her cheek against his broad chest. Eventually, she pulled away and ventured a tentative smile. “Boy, talk about a buzz kill.”

Logan sighed, his body still tense. “Yeah. This isn’t exactly how I wanted to end the night.”

“Who says it’s over?” Smiling seductively, she slipped a hand under his shirt, easing past the waist of his jeans before dipping further south. Logan’s breath quickened as her hand trailed lower, barely skimming his dick beneath his Speed Racer boxer shorts.

“You’re evil,” he muttered, grasped her arms and propelling them towards the bed. They fell onto the mattress, and Logan’s mouth crashed onto hers. With one sharp tug, he pulled her black tank top over her head and bent to take a lace-covered nipple into his mouth.

She arched her back reveling in the wet heat of his mouth, and mewling in protest when he pulled away. She heard the whisper of a metal zipper – Logan never wore a belt – and shimmied out of her jeans, while he rummaged in the nightstand drawer.

He was back before Veronica had a chance to remove the sheer black panties she’d splurged on just yesterday. In an instant he was tugging on the delicate lace. When the fragile material ripped, she opened her mouth to make some wisecrack, but the strange intensity in Logan’s eyes stopped her.

He was already pushing her back onto the bed, spreading her legs as he loomed over her.

Covering her mouth with his, Logan pinned her wrists above her head. Veronica let out a squeak of surprise, even as her breath quickened and she felt a rush of wetness between her legs.

Suddenly, Logan was inside her, and she couldn’t suppress the loud moan that escaped her lips. She didn’t even notice he’d moved his hands, releasing her wrists to cup the cheeks of her ass.

Caught up in the maelstrom of sensations Logan was inflicting on her body, she barely registered his fingers gripping her flesh. When he deepened his thrusts, she bit back a scream as a powerful orgasm ripped through her.

Logan came seconds later, collapsing on top of her, their sweaty forms entangled on the comforter as their heartbeats gradually slowed.

Veronica’s brain hadn’t yet rebooted, when she felt his hands gliding over her rear, thighs and hips, tantalizing her again. She murmured a protest, opening her eyes to see Logan peering at her anxiously.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so rough … I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Logan’s dark eyes were troubled, almost haunted.

Veronica shook her head, reaching up to touch his cheek. “No. Of course not.”

Logan twisted onto his back, absently rubbing his forehead with the back of his hand as he stared at the ceiling. Veronica studied him in the dim light, her heart twisting a little as she considered all the things that could be going through his mind. On an impulse, she propped up on one elbow and lightly stroked his arm.

“You know,” she whispered, waiting for him to look her way. “I hear Florence has awesome gelaterias.”

Slowly, he turned his head and smiled. “Wait ‘till you try the cicchetti in Venice.”

Later, after Logan had fallen asleep, Veronica carefully eased out from under his arm, dressing quietly before slipping outside. In the living room, she scribbled a note asking him to come by with the travel books she knew he’d been reading. Seized by a rare burst of mushy sentiment, she scrawled a heart by her name before hurrying to her car and driving home.

By the time Veronica finally fell into her own bed it was nearly 3 a.m. As she closed her eyes, she could almost hear Logan’s voice ticking off a list of artists on display at the Louvre, the Orsay, the Pompidou - and she smiled into her pillow. He’s right, I would love all that fancy art crap, she thought before succumbing to sleep.

“Go ahead, stick your hand in,” Logan taunted mercilessly. “The Bocca della Verita will know if you’re telling the truth.”

Slowly, reluctantly, her hand moved towards the cold marble. Shocked, Veronica realized she was trembling. Her heart began pounding wildly as she drew closer to the river god’s mouth …

She woke with a start just as the shrill ring of her cell phone sounded from the small shelf over her bed. Groggily, she checked the time and noted she’d only been sleeping for three hours. She frowned at the unknown number, and thumbed the answer button, prepared to chew out whoever was on the other end.

“Veronica, I need your help,” said a familiar voice.

**********

Logan pulled up to the Sunset Cliffs Apartments and turned off the SUV’s ignition. But instead of getting out, he sat and watched a couple walking their dog until they disappeared around a corner.

Since waking that morning to an empty bed, he hadn’t been able to shake a growing fear that he was losing Veronica. He couldn’t help but wonder if their trip was just a consolation prize, and it pissed him off to know it didn’t matter – he’d cling to whatever scrap of hope she threw his way.

His anxiety was compounded by guilt over the boorish way he’d handled her the night before. Emotionally raw, he’d come close to losing control and taking out his frustration on Veronica. Logan grew queasy remembering the harsh, red marks his fingers left on her delicate, milky skin.

Logan started at a sharp rap on the window. Keith Mars was standing by the passenger side door, squinting through the tinted glass, his arm braced against the SUV’s frame.

“Logan? What are you doing out here?” Veronica’s father was wearing his beige patrol uniform, obviously on his way to work.

Logan grabbed his thick stack of travel guides and got out of the car. “Oh, hey, Mr. Mars. I was just was on my way up to see Veronica. I guess I kinda spaced out,” he said, stepping onto the sidewalk.

“I’m sorry Logan, but Veronica isn’t home. She got a call early this morning and had to go out of town on a case. She should be back in a week or so.”

“What case? Veronica never said she was working on anything,” Logan blurted, shaken.

“I can’t say, but it came up suddenly. I don’t think she had time to call you.”

“Well, where is she? It’s nothing dangerous, is it?”

“I don’t know where she went, exactly, but I can tell you she’s not in any danger. I wouldn’t have let her go if I thought there was anything to worry about,” the older man assured him.

Logan nodded, his mouth slack with shock. “Right. Of course not … Um, I guess I’ll just head home. If you hear from her, can you have her give me a call?”

Keith promised to pass along the message, and Logan got back in his SUV. As he pulled away from the curb, he was already dialing Veronica’s cell, but his call went straight to voicemail. “Hey Veronica, it’s me. What’s with all the mystery? Call me when you get a chance … I love you.” Resigned, Logan hung up and tossed his phone onto the passenger seat, knowing she wouldn’t call. Guess I’ll have to wait a week, he thought glumly.

But two weeks went by without any word from Veronica, and even though Logan had repeatedly visited the Sheriff’s Department, Keith’s story hadn’t changed. He didn’t know where his wayward daughter was, but she was safe.

“So you’ve spoken to her?” Logan questioned Neptune’s sheriff in his own office.

“No, but I know she’s okay,” Keith answered in a patient, all-too-familiar tone Logan had heard him use hundreds of times with Veronica, whenever she tried to pump him for information.

“I don’t get it. Why can’t she call? Her cell’s off, and her mailbox is full so she’s not picking up messages. How do you know she’s alright if you haven’t spoken with her?”

From behind his desk, Keith nodded in sympathy, as Logan faced him head on. Abruptly, he stopped rambling, recognizing Keith’s empathetic, but unmoving expression. He’d seen it often enough on Veronica’s face to know he wasn’t going to get any further.

He left after politely declining Keith’s dinner offer. That night, he and Dick went to a bar in downtown Neptune, where he proceeded to get drunk off his ass. He was on his third shot of tequila when he heard a friendly voice.

“Hey there, Logan. How’s it hanging?” Wallace greeted him. “Haven’t seen you since graduation.”

“Hey.” Logan raised his glass, clinking it against Wallace’s beer mug. “I don’t suppose _you_ know where my girlfriend is? Aren’t you, like, her BFF or something?”

Wallace sucked in his breath and shook his head. “You think Veronica tells _me_ anything? No way, man. I don’t have top-security clearance. She’s got me on a strict, need-to-know status.”

Logan laughed mirthlessly. “She gave me a secret decoder ring once. Does that mean I rank higher than you?”

“Cheer up, bro’. She’ll be back soon. You know Veronica. How much you wanna bet she’ll breeze back to town with the GPS coordinates for Jimmy Hoffa’s body?”

That got a genuine chuckle out of Logan, and he ordered another round of drinks for them. He was in high spirits by the end of the night thanks to Wallace and a very accommodating bartender. When his head touched the pillow in the wee hours, he resolved to be more patient.

But Logan finally reached his boiling point two weeks later.

“She’s been gone for a _freaking month_ ! I don’t understand how you can be okay with this. She’s your _daughter_ and you have no idea where she is!” Logan railed, after bursting into Keith’s office. “Or do you? Is she in D.C.? Is that it? She took that FBI internship?”

“Shut the door, Logan, and have a seat.” Keith gestured to a chair and sat back, heaving a tired sigh. “If she’s in D.C., it’s not because of the internship. Other than that, I’m afraid there’s nothing I can tell you.”

“You’ll excuse me if I don’t believe you,” Logan retorted. “Whenever she was with _me_ , you made damn sure you knew exactly where she was, what she was doing and when she’d be home.”

“Watch yourself, Logan,” Keith admonished, leveling a stern gaze at the sullen young man. “I know you care about my daughter and you’re concerned for her welfare, but if you don’t calm down, I’m going to haul your ass out of here.”

Logan gritted his teeth, struggling to put a cap on his temper. “I’m sorry. I hate just not knowing. And haven’t you noticed, ever time she does sh…stuff like this, bad things tend to happen?”

“You’re going to have to trust Veronica on this one … Look, weren’t you supposed to spend the summer in Europe? Maybe you should take that trip. I promise I’ll have Veronica call you when she gets back.”

Logan stood, knowing Keith was politely kicking him out. He also realized Veronica never told her father they were going to Europe together. _Hell, for all you know, she wasn’t ever planning to go through with it, anyway._

He was opening the door when a thought occurred to him. He stopped abruptly and turned back to Keith. “Does this have anything to do with Veronica’s mother?” Logan asked.

“Lianne? No. Why?”

“Nothing. Just grasping at straws … I think I’m going to take your advice and get away for a while. You’ll call if you hear anything?”

“Sure. I’ll do that, Logan.”

“Thanks, Mr. Mars.”

Logan had no intention of leaving Neptune. At least, not until he figured what the hell was going on with his mercurial girlfriend. As soon as he was out of earshot, he flipped open his cell phone and scrolled down until he found the number he was looking for. Thumbing the call button, he listened to the phone ring several times before getting voicemail.

“Hey. It’s Logan. I need your help with something. Could you give me a call as soon as you get this?” He snapped his phone shut and stalked to his car.

There had been genuine surprise in Keith’s voice when Logan asked about Lianne Mars. It was obvious the man had no idea his former wife had tried contacting their daughter. It seemed Logan wasn’t the only one Veronica was hiding things from.

_Am I supposed to take it as a good sign, the father she adores is as much in the dark as I am?_

She’d never been particularly open with him, but then again, Veronica wasn’t one of those girls who always wanted to recap the minutiae of daily life or talk about their feelings. He could count on one hand the times she’d deigned to admit she loved him. Although, come to think of it, Logan couldn’t remember her ever uttering that precise word.

In Veronica’s mind, truth was intimacy, and so she probed for information while sharing little with others. But until recently, Logan had thought she let him in on the important stuff. It had been a jolt to discover just how little Veronica had actually trusted him.

He thought of how she must have surreptitiously searched for her missing mother, never once giving the slightest indication she had any desire to find Lianne. Except for their graduation day, she hadn’t even mentioned the woman’s name in years.

His gut twisted, thinking how she wanted to move across the country and join the FBI, yet she hadn’t divulged this bit of information until he had forced her hand. Now, as he drove through the streets of Neptune, Logan wondered what other secrets she had been keeping.

_Guess I’ll have to do some digging of my own._

From the seat next to him, Logan’s phone buzzed, and he hastily dove for it, keeping one hand on the steering wheel. He quickly flipped it open when he recognized the number.

“Hey, Logan. It’s Mac. You rang?”

“Hi, Mac. Are you busy right now? I’ve misplaced my girlfriend and was hoping you could help me find her.”

Ten minutes later, Logan was standing in Mac’s sunny apartment near campus, too keyed up to take the chair she offered. “There’s something off about the way her dad doesn’t even know where she is. I mean, assuming he’s telling the truth, why would she keep her location a secret from _him_?” he said, thinking out loud.

“Maybe ‘cause he’s the sheriff?” Mac mused. She handed him a soda and sat down beside an open laptop on the couch. “I’m afraid to ask, but what exactly did you want me to do for you, Logan?”

He took a deep breath. “I have to find her, Mac, and I have no idea where to start looking. She usually kept me out of the loop when it came to her cases. But you’ve worked with her for years, you know how she tracks her prey. I know it’s asking a lot, but I need your expertise.”

Mac’s large, blue-grey eyes were sympathetic, even as she chewed her lip uncertainly. “I don’t know, Logan. I’m not exactly keen on the idea of invading a friend’s privacy.”

“Damn it, Mac! I’m not some crazed stalker. I’m her _boyfriend_ for Christ sake!” Logan burst out, his gesture pleading. Defeated, he sank into a nearby chair. “At least, I think I am … She tell you about the FBI thing?”

Mac nodded and he huffed sardonically. “I dunno. Maybe this is just her way of getting rid of me.”

She started to laugh, until she realized Logan wasn’t joking. “That’s a pretty elaborate way to dump a guy, even for Veronica, don’t you think?” He shrugged, standing as if to go, but Mac stopped him. “If you left town, she’d be on me in a nanosecond to hack into your info,” explained the computer whiz, tapping away on her keyboard. “Luckily, I’ve learned a few things over the years. Do you have her social, or any credit card numbers?”

“No, why would I? There’s never been any reason for her to give me that kind of information.”

Mac threw him a pitying glance. “Wanna bet she’s got your numbers memorized? Think there’s any way you can get a hold of them? If she’s gone out of town, it’s almost guaranteed she’d have used a credit card. Tracking her purchases is probably the easiest way to find out where she went.”

“I’ll see what I can find. Is there anything else we can try?”

“Well, there’s a chance we could check her cell phone records, but I’ll need a day or two to work on it.”

Logan nodded, and reached out give her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Thanks, Mac. I really appreciate this. I can pay you. Just name your price.”

“Forget it, Logan. Consider it a professional courtesy. But do me a favor? When Veronica wants you to name names – and she will – leave mine out. Deal?”

“Pinky swear,” Logan chuckled, saying goodbye as he left the apartment.

Mac called the next day while Logan was getting coffee at a café. She’d figured out a way to get phone records for the Mars apartment and Veronica’s cell, but it involved a minor covert operation.

“I need you to download a keylogger program onto a computer … ” Mac began.

“That doesn’t sound too hard.”

“… at the Sheriff’s Department.”

“Oh.”

Mac hurried to explain. “Once it’s downloaded, I can get the password I need to access their phone records program from my computer at home. Of course, this would be a lot easier if Veronica were here.”

Logan sighed. “So, how are we supposed to do this without getting caught?”

“What do you mean ‘we’? I don’t do field work. I just supply the gizmos.”

“Right. Hmm … I need a beard.”

Logan hung up and ordered two double espressos to go. A few minutes later, caffeine in hand, he strode up to a tidy Craftsman house and knocked on the door. “Hey, Wallace. Got a sec? I need your help,” he greeted, pushing past Veronica’s surprised friend.

“Now, why’d I just get chills up my spine?” Wallace asked, shutting the door.

Logan quickly explained the situation, detailing the plan he’d hastily put together during his drive to the Fennel house. When he finished Wallace was staring at him, mouth agape.

“Man, you’ve been hanging with Veronica too long. You realize V’s gonna _skin you alive_ when she finds out about this, and you _know_ she’ll find out. Not only is she gonna be pissed you spied on her, but tracking her down in the middle of a case? It ain’t gonna be pretty.”

“Yeah, well, I’ll risk it. She was probably going to dump me anyway,” Logan replied, his voice rising. “She’s been gone for a month, Wallace. For all I know, she lied to her dad and could be in danger. I have to find her. I have to know she’s okay.”

As Wallace eyed him skeptically, Logan’s patience began to wear thin. Plastering a smile on his face, he held out the espresso. “Pretty please? Look, if you’re worried about getting on Veronica’s bad side, I promise to disavow all knowledge of your involvement, okay?”

“Yeah, like that’ll do any good,” Wallace grumbled, grabbing the drink. “Fine. What do you want me to do?”

They had to wait until Sheriff Mars went home and the night shift took over. “I’ve been flashing my mug around there a lot, lately. The day shift knows me,” Logan explained.

As soon it was clear, Logan strode through the double doors, grinning to himself when he saw the office was deserted except for the young, female deputy working the front desk. After a quick glance at her name plate, he flashed Deputy Drew his patented guaranteed-to-make-them-swoon smile.

“Uh, hi. Is this where you pay for traffic tickets? I got pulled over a few weeks ago for a broken taillight, but I lost the paper the officer gave me. I’ve looked everywhere, but no luck. I can still pay for it though, right?”

The pretty, blonde deputy rose from her desk and walked to the public counter. “Normally, we’re more than happy to take your money,” she said, returning Logan’s smile. “But you probably got a ‘fix-it ticket.’ Someone has to check your car to make sure it’s fixed before you’re off the hook, and unfortunately, I’m the only one here right now. I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to come back tomorrow.”

Looking appropriately crestfallen, Logan pleaded shamelessly. “Couldn’t you just take a quick look? It’s right out front, and it’ll only take a second. I’m going out of town on an extended vacation and I leave tomorrow. So you see, I’m kinda desperate.”

He looked at her hopefully, and after a quick glance around the empty office, the deputy relented just as Logan had predicted. She typed his information into a computer and made a couple of notes on a clipboard before grabbing a set of keys.

Just as they were leaving, Logan gave the brass desk bell on the counter three firm taps. “Huh, it actually works. How quaint,” he said, rushing to hold the door open. They exited the building, but not before he caught a glimpse of a black-clad figure slipping out of the men’s bathroom.

Fifteen minutes later, after he’d conveniently forgotten where he’d parked his car and dawdled as possible, flirting outrageously with the wide-eyed deputy, Logan pulled up to a corner a block away from sheriff’s headquarters.

Wallace hopped in and Logan looked at him expectantly. “Mission accomplished,” the reluctant spy reported. “I still don’t know why I had to do the dirty work.”

“I told you. We have to play to our strengths and you’re the engineer. If there’d been a glitch …”

“…I could’ve designed a set of wings to fly me out of prison after I got caught. I’m a _mechanical_ engineer! I suck at computer programming.”

“Dude, chill. You didn’t get caught.”

“Remind me again – what was _your_ strength in this little scenario?”

“Charm,” Logan replied, wriggling his eyebrows.

Wallace glared at him, slouching down into the Range Rover’s leather seat. “Shouldn’t we be worried Veronica’s dad’ll get wind of you showing up to pay a fake traffic ticket?” he asked after a few minutes.

“It wasn’t fake. The best lies have elements of truth.”

Wallace gave a quick, amused shake of the head. “I don’t know what you’re so worried about. You and Veronica were made for each other. The two of you make one scary ass couple.”

Logan didn’t say anything as he eased onto the freeway and headed towards Hearst. When they got to Mac’s apartment, she was already typing away at her computer and within minutes the hacker crowed triumphantly. “… And I’m in! The real beauty of this program is that I wrote it to self-destruct before the start of business tomorrow morning, so they’ll never even know we were there. Just give me one … more … sec.”

A list of numbers going back four months popped up on the screen. They peered at the glowing monitor. “It doesn’t look like she’s used her cell since the day she left,” Mac said, puzzled. “That’s weird. Why would she shut off her phone?”

“She doesn’t want anyone to trace her through her cell signal … or someone turned it off for her,” Logan said grimly.

“No way,” Wallace assured. “She’s got to be in touch with Mr. Mars somehow, or he would’ve had the National Guard out hunting for her a long time ago.” They reexamined the list, which showed the last incoming number had been from a San Francisco exchange, shortly after six on the morning Veronica seemingly vanished.

“Mac, can you find out whose number that is?” Logan asked, suddenly wondering if this was all about Veronica’s mom.

She hit a few keys and then shook her head. “I’m not getting a name, or address. It must be one of those throwaway phones.”

Logan was already dialing the number, but moments later he snapped his phone shut irritably. “Disconnected,” he informed them.

“Well, she got a few other calls from San Francisco around the same time, let me check those.” Mac turned back to the computer.

Logan was the only one not surprised to see Lianne Mars’ name pop up on the screen.

“I guess the case is solved,” Wallace said. “She’s in ‘Frisco. I mean, it can’t be a coincidence her mom’s living there, and she takes off right after getting a call from someone in the same city. It was probably Mrs. Mars using a new phone.”

Mac frowned. “I don’t get it. Why all the subterfuge? It’s not like she’s a fugitive running from the law.” Lost in thought, Logan had grown strangely silent. He could almost hear Veronica ‘the Sage’, wisely intoning there was no such thing as a coincidence. So why wasn’t he convinced?

“Can you look at the records for their home phone?” Logan asked Mac.

But that was a dead end, too. Other than a few out-of-town telemarketers, all the other calls coming in and out of the Mars’ apartment were local and nothing unusual jumped up.

“I really think she’s in San Francisco with her mom, but I can still check her credit card purchases if you want to know for sure,” Mac told Logan before he and Wallace left.

Back at the condo, Logan went straight to his computer and began searching the web-viewing history on his browser. Usually, Veronica was surgically attached to her laptop, but it had started acting up just a few weeks before graduation and she’d borrowed Logan’s while Mac was fixing hers.

“It’s not like you’re really going to write that paper on Theodore Roethke ahead of time,” she’d reasoned – and chastised – even as she opened his laptop. Days later, Logan was typing in a web address when a newspaper link he’d never seen before popped up in the window.

He’d thought nothing of it at the time, but now he couldn’t help wondering if it meant anything. When he found it again, Logan realized Veronica had logged onto this particular newspaper’s web site several times. _What was she looking for? Or was it – who?_

A growing suspicion wormed through his brain. He shut off the laptop and crawled into bed. With one arm pillowed under his head, Logan lay awake until sunlight began peeping through the crack in the curtains. Throwing back the covers, he showered and dressed before getting into the Range Rover and driving to the Sunset Cliffs Apartments.

He parked around the corner from Veronica’s home and sat, waiting and watching. When he saw the sheriff’s black and white patrol car pull away, he got out and jogged up to the building, quickly slipping past the metal gate. He glanced around before letting himself into the Mars apartment, using the key Veronica had given him the last time he dog sat.

Backup greeted Logan happily, and he squatted down to let the pit bull lick his face. “Come on, boy. Let’s find you a treat,” he said, scratching behind the dog’s ears. He found a milk bone in one of the cupboards and held it out. “Remember, mum’s the word.”

Quietly, Logan began to search Veronica’s neat-as-a-pin room. She’d taken her laptop, so there wasn’t much to find on her desk other than a few gadgets and cords. Her impeccably organized files revealed an old credit card statement, and Logan jotted down the account number. But if she wasn’t even using her cell, he doubted she was foolish enough to risk any plastic purchases.

He rifled through her drawers, finding mostly t-shirts, jeans and a few scraps of the lingerie he’d always been so hot to peel off her. There was also a small box in the drawer near her bed, where she kept several pictures of Lilly and Duncan. In one photo – the last ever taken of the Fabulous Four – an angelic-looking Veronica was smiling serenely into the camera, basking under Duncan’s adoring gaze, while Lilly puckered her red, wet lips, poised to kiss Logan full on the mouth.

Logan replaced the box, and sat at her desk, surveying the room. His eyes wandered over art posters, and the framed black and white photos she’d shot and hung on her wall, before coming to rest on a large bulletin board. Moving closer, he scanned the surface – it was cluttered with reminder notes, a recent work schedule, some newspaper articles from old cases, and a few pictures of her Hearst friends.

Idly, he plucked out one of the postcards she’d tucked into the metal edge. He recognized the two concrete and teak buildings facing one another in the picture. The austere, block structures were perfectly arranged to frame the Pacific Ocean, and a straight, narrow reservoir of water cut through the middle of the travertine stone walkway, vanishing into the horizon. The Jonas Salk Institute in La Jolla, San Diego’s enclave of wealth and privilege, was as famous for its architecture as it was for the cutting edge research its scientists conducted in molecular biology, genetics and neuroscience.

Logan knew all this because his father, in a philanthropic fit, donated some ungodly amount of money to the Salk Institute. That year, his parents dragged him to a fundraiser held in the courtyard, and he recalled how the plaza’s design gave the illusion of suddenly dropping off over the edge of the mountain bluff.

He tensed at the memory and shoved the postcard back into the frame. It was time to tackle Veronica’s closet.

**********

_“Loooogan, quit pouting and get your yummy ass over here.”_

_Logan cringed as Lilly’s seductive croon trilled through the hallway. It was her way of proclaiming to the entire school that she had him at her beck and call, a verbal equivalent of crooking her finger. But for once, Logan wasn’t going to go panting after her. He was sick of her stupid games._

_He slammed his locker door with a bang and strode past Lilly, ignoring her coquettish smirk and the wide-eyed, sympathetic stare of her shadow Veronica Mars. When he didn’t feel the claws of the older Kane sibling sink into his arm, Logan breathed a sigh of relief and headed to his first-period art class, knowing it was a temporary reprieve._

_Art was the one and only class the Fabulous Four shared - a feat orchestrated by Lilly herself, probably so she could paint her toenails while simultaneously gossiping with Veronica, teasing her younger brother, and tormenting him._

_Briefly, he considered ditching class, but knew it would only land him in more trouble – trouble he could ill afford. The bell rang and he pushed open the door to the art room, only to find it completely deserted._

_Fuck._

_Belatedly, Logan remembered today was the day the whole class was supposed to go on a field trip to some boring L.A. art museum. Two freaking hours away. The absolute last thing he wanted was to be trapped on a bus with his ex – or was it merely estranged – girlfriend. Not after last night._

_“Hey, Logan. You forget we have that field trip to the Getty today?”_

_Logan stifled an irritated sigh, turning to face his best friend. Duncan was the closest thing Logan had to a brother, and in some ways, the bond they’d shared since kindergarten was stronger than anything blood siblings could ever have. Logan relied on his friendship with Duncan more than he did his own parents._

_But sometimes it was painful to be around him._

_Duncan, the billionaire’s son who never strayed from his straight and narrow path, was so fucking perfect, all of the time that everyone around him ended up looking like chumps. Especially Logan, whose dark, volatile nature stood in stark contrast to Duncan, the white knight who could do no wrong._

_Not that Logan really gave a damn – 99.9 percent of the time. Duncan may have had the book smarts and the grades to go with it, but Logan’s off-the-chart test scores proved he was no slouch in the brains department, either. He had a quick mind and an even quicker wit._

_More importantly, girls never shied away from letting him know just how appealing they found him, although Logan couldn’t always tell if they were interested in him or his movie star father. Still, while he didn’t have Duncan’s conventional, California golden boy, good looks, the ladies never failed to bat their eyelashes whenever he threw them one of his lazy, sexy smirks. Even Queen Lilly frequently succumbed to his charm, despite herself._

_In fact, the only girl who didn’t seem to find him irresistible was Veronica, whose innocent, unwavering adoration of Duncan made her the perfect Princess Aurora to his Prince Charming._

_But on days like today, when the memories of his latest fuck-up - and the ensuing punishment - were still all-too fresh, Logan dreaded the thought of being forced to witness the unrelenting perfection of Duncan’s life. Let alone while traipsing through the hushed halls of some stupid museum._

_“Was that today?” Logan bluffed. “Gee, I’ve got a tart coming at noon, so it looks like I’m gonna have to pass on the field trip.”_

_“Stop being an ass. You have to go. The exhibit critique counts for thirty percent of our grade,” Duncan reminded him. “Besides, you know your fight with Lilly is going to blow over. It always does.”_

_“Maybe I don’t want it to blow over.”_

_“You don’t mean that. Come on. At least we get out of listening to Madame Rousseau conjugate verbs.”_

_Logan didn’t answer, but grudgingly fell into step next to Duncan as they left the art room and made their way to where the rest of the class was waiting outside. He clambered onto the bus, ignoring the space Lilly had saved for him, and eased his tall frame onto a seat behind Duncan and Veronica, making sure to take up the entire bench. With the sharp crack of Aaron’s belt still ringing in his ears, Logan was careful not to lean up against the backrest._

_By mid-afternoon, they’d gone through most of the museum and stopped to eat a late lunch on the cool grass near the central garden. While they scarfed down sandwiches from the cafeteria, Lilly babbled on about an oil painting she’d seen depicting the Greek lovers Venus and Mars in a compromising position._

_“Her husband caught them in the act,” Lilly whispered in feigned shock._

_Logan wanted to wring her neck. The long bus ride and hours of walking through gallery after gallery had done little to lighten Logan’s dark mood. He’d barely slept the night before, and his head throbbed from the exhaustion of trying to hide how tense he was. It didn’t help that Lilly was alternately trying to seduce and enrage him._

_And the torturous day wasn’t over, not yet. There was still a special exhibit on modern architecture that Duncan was eager to check out, so after lunch, they gathered up their things and headed back inside the museum._

_Duncan zeroed in on a wall devoted to the highly acclaimed Jonas Salk Institute. Photographs augmented the pencil and ink artist renderings of the famous research center._

_“Logan went there last night for some fancy, la-ti-dah fundraiser,” Lilly announced. “So? How was it? Did you miss me?”_

_Logan met Lilly’s beguiling, jeering gaze, and couldn’t help thinking of the sparkling green eyes belonging to the stunning girl he’d met at last night’s party. His boredom had vanished the moment she’d sidled up to him._

_When she’d taken his hand and led him behind one of the unadorned concrete walls, Logan had thought, what the hell? It wasn’t as if Lilly gave a damn. Just that afternoon she’d provoked him by hinting at a romp she may, or may not, have had with a guy with sexy brown eyes. He’d completely lost it and they’d broken up, yet again. Or at least, Logan was pretty sure they had._

_So when Darian pressed her body against his and thrust her tongue into his mouth, he hadn’t resisted. How was he supposed to have known she was the beloved 15-year-old daughter of a Hollywood movie producer his father was desperate to impress?_

_Now, Logan turned away from Lilly’s taunting stare and shrugged. “You know, it was your typical soiree for the rich and famous – plenty of whine and cheese, and not the kind you put in your mouth.”_

_Veronica snickered, but Duncan ignored Logan’s sardonic comment and prodded him for more information about how the institute’s buildings had looked. “I dunno. It was just a couple of cement buildings … The courtyard was cool.” His assessment seemed to satisfy Duncan, who turned to his attention to a photo Veronica pointed out. Logan lingered behind, giving one of the sketches a closer look._

_He could tell, from an aerial perspective of the grounds, that he’d been on the far end of the courtyard getting a drink for Darian, when his father had suddenly approached. Aaron had gripped his arm so hard, Logan dropped the plastic cup in his hand, spattering the rum laced Coke on both their trousers._

_They’d left the party right after that. As Logan followed behind his parents, he’d turned his head towards the opposite side of the courtyard, where it seemed to disappear into the Pacific Ocean._

_He remembered thinking at the time how easy it would be to just step over the edge into the canyon below._

_But looking at the sketches and photos, Logan realized he’d been wrong. The courtyard didn’t end at the brink of the mountain bluff, but dropped at a sharp angle onto another plaza only a few yards below. Now, he could see the trickling stream became a waterfall that served as a focal point for the lower terrace._

_Turning away, Logan rejoined his friends in time to hear Lilly inform Veronica that Duncan’s one true desire was to be an architect._

_“Really? I didn’t know that. I think that’s great, Duncan,” Veronica said._

_“Yeah, well, the parentals are already hard at work nixing that idea,” Lilly added. “There’s not enough money in it for Mommy Celeste, and Jake is hell bent on getting a Kane into the White House, and we all know it ain’t gonna be me.”_

_Logan glanced at Duncan, realizing for the first time that his best friend’s life wasn’t so perfect after all. Guess we’re all just fucked, he thought._

_They entered another exhibit room and Lilly tried slipping her arm around Logan’s waist. He jerked away abruptly, hands balled into taut fists as he went through a doorway and made his way back into one of the main halls._

_“Um, Logan? Are you okay?” Logan barely threw a glance over his shoulder at Veronica, who was jogging up behind him._

_“I'm fine, Veronica,” he said, coming to a stop._

_“Fine? Really? ‘Cause you’ve been walking around like a thunder cloud all day. What gives?”_

_“Why? Did Her Highness send you over to be her scout? Well, you can tell Lilly she can fuck the entire National Fleet, for all I care. Hell, she’s probably halfway through by now,” Logan scowled._

_“Careful, Logan. You shouldn’t talk about Lilly that way, or she just might dump you for good.”_

_Fierce loyalty and blind naiveté made Veronica, Lilly’s perfect patsy, Logan thought as he let out a harsh, bitter laugh. “That’s rich. The school’s prissiest virgin is giving me advice on my love life. Maybe you should be careful, Ms. Mars. If you keep legs shut much longer, Duncan might lose interest and dump you for good.”_

_Veronica flushed, her eyes widening in shock. He could see she was genuinely hurt._

_“You’re an asshole, Logan,” she spat out before whirling on her heels and stalking away._

_Logan watched her retreating back until she was nearly out of sight, thinking he was unfit to be around decent people, especially tender-hearted girls like Veronica Mars. But he ran after her anyway. When he got close, he grasped her elbow. She gave a startled yelp, swatting at him._

_The tiny, pink purse dangling from her wrist caught Logan on his back near his shoulder blade, where the angry, red welts from his dad’s belt were still fresh and tender. The sharp, searing pain took his breath away and he doubled over, tears stinging his eyes._

_“Oh my god, Logan. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to …”_

_“No, it’s okay. It’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have grabbed you like that,” he managed to wince._

_“I can’t believe I hit you that hard,” Veronica said, instinctively reaching out. Hastily, he dodged her touch._

_“You didn’t. I just got banged up surfing the other day.”_

_“Surfing? Weren’t you with Lilly …”_

_“… Look, Veronica, I’m sorry for what I said earlier. I didn’t mean it, especially not the stuff about you and Duncan. You’re right. I am an asshole … Think you can forgive me?”_

_Veronica rolled her eyes, but a mischievous smile spread across her face. “Well, only if you buy me an ice cream.”_

_Logan chuckled, grinning for the first time all day. “So you’ll give it up for ice cream, huh? I should tell Duncan,” he teased, gently tugging one of her braids. “You are so easy, Mars.”_

_Veronica snorted. “Back at ya, Echolls.”_

**********

Logan replaced the last shoebox in Veronica’s closet, shoving it into its place on the upper shelf with a soft thud. He had no idea she had so many clothes, never mind the shoes.

It had taken him an hour to go through every box, purse, and pocket and in the end he’d found nothing. Zip. Zilch. Zero. He’d been in the Mars’ apartment for the better part of the day, and had nothing to show for it except for an old credit card bill that probably wouldn’t be any help. He’d have to get out soon, or risk getting caught.

Logan stood in the middle of her room and slowly turned, his gaze finally coming to rest again on that damned postcard. He picked it up and flipped it over to read the back. It was a request for a donation, typed out in neat, block letters, probably one of thousands the institute sent out each year.

He glanced at the San Diego postmark, noting it had been sent a few years back on March 16 – his birthday. Vaguely, Logan wondered why Veronica would save a piece of mail dating back to high school. It’s not like she was into architecture … not like – _Duncan_.

He looked at the date again, and it hit him. The postcard had been sent two months after Duncan fled Neptune with his newborn daughter.

Logan snatched several other postcards from the bulletin board, quickly stuffing them in his pocket before slipping out of the apartment. Minutes later, when he burst through the door of his condo, he was already flipping through the cards.

There were only a half dozen of them, all of places from around the globe, but depicted in a variety of styles. A couple were ordinary tourist shots, others artsy black and whites taken from unique angles, and there were a few artist sketches or paintings. To anyone else, they were just a reflection of a young woman’s desire to see the world.

But Logan understood the significance of the dates: her dad’s birthday and anniversaries like the spring dance, graduation, the night she’d uncovered the truth about Lilly’s death, and even the day his father had been acquitted of her murder.

Veronica had been in touch with Duncan all along and she’d hidden the proof of her crime in plain sight.

He didn’t know how she’d figured out where Duncan had run off to, but it was clear, now, why she regularly checked the web site for a newspaper in Australia.

And Logan didn’t need proof to confirm what he knew in his heart. Veronica had left Neptune to be with Duncan Kane.


	2. Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veronica picks up Duncan’s trail, but her search is taking longer than she expected. Meanwhile, back home in Neptune, Logan is trying to move on.

**Four weeks earlier …**

Veronica stretched and yawned, pulling a soft blanket to her chin as she leaned back against the supple, cushioned leather, iPod earbuds firmly in place. The buttery taste of a shortbread cookie still lingered in her mouth, she considered asking for milk to wash it down.

A girl could get used to this, she thought, remembering her cramped flight to New York as she wriggled her elbows and luxuriated in the much-roomier first-class airline seat. _Maybe I should let Logan spring for the good seats when we go to Europe._

Thinking of him, waiting for her back in Neptune, reminded Veronica she should have called to explain why she’d left town so abruptly. But she’d been booked on the first flight out of San Francisco International Airport, and hated to wake him so early. Besides, there wasn’t much she could tell him, so she’d let her dad convey the message instead. Now, halfway through the fifteen-hour flight, she was beginning to regret her decision, but it was too late. She couldn’t risk anyone tracing the call.

Twenty-four hours ago, when she’d been awakened by her ringing phone, it had taken Veronica several seconds to identify the urgent voice on the other end. After all, the last time she’d laid eyes on the man, two deputies were dragging him away from his daughter’s killer.

“Veronica, I need your help. Duncan and Lilly are missing,” a desperate Jake Kane had said.

 _Well, duh._ The passage of time had done little to temper her bitterness towards the Kanes, but she’d managed to bite back the snarky retort. “Mr. Kane, I’m sorry but I have no idea where Duncan is. He hasn’t exactly been in touch ….”

But the billionaire software tycoon hadn’t been demanding information - he’d wanted to hire her. “You knew my son better than anyone, and I know you helped him escape before. _Please, Veronica._ I can’t lose them. They’re the only family I have.”

Jake had been willing to pay handsomely for her assistance, and she wasn’t too proud to take his money. But it was more than the promise of a lucrative case. A long time ago, Duncan had meant the world to Veronica and she owed it to him to make sure he got home safe and sound – wherever he chose to call home these days.

It hadn’t been easy mustering the courage to tell Keith, and in the end all she’d said was Jake Kane had hired her to solve a case. Her dad was no fool, but ultimately they’d both understood she wasn’t asking his permission. It was no longer his decision to make. Before reluctantly kissing her goodbye, he’d strenuously voiced his opposition and exacted her solemn promise to check in regularly, just to assure him she was safe. Less than two hours after she was rudely awakened, she was 1,000 feet above the earth in a private jet, on her way to San Francisco.

When Jake let Veronica into his Marina district penthouse overlooking the bay, there’d been no trace of his lesser half. He’d told Veronica his divorce had become final two years to the day Duncan and baby Lilly fled Neptune. The former Mrs. Kane was now living in considerably smaller Bel Air manor, he’d said bitterly.

It was clear Jake still blamed his ex-wife for their son’s predicament. Whatever her reasons, Celeste Kane had refused to help Duncan fight for custody of his daughter, and it had destroyed their marriage. Since the day Duncan left, Jake had been trying to find a way to bring his son and granddaughter back into the family fold. Although he remained head of Kane Software, he had a phalanx of highly-paid employees who ran the company, leaving him free to deal with the team of lawyers and investigators working on Duncan’s case.

With the help of Clarence Wiedman, Jake had set up an offshore bank account, ensuring Duncan and Lilly would have enough money for years to come. His right-hand man and head of security had also managed to devise an elaborate communication system so father and son could keep track of one another, even if they couldn’t speak directly.

Every week, Duncan was supposed to leave an encrypted message via a web-based email address, and Jake would do the same. This way, he would know his son was okay.

“We’re so close to bringing him home, Veronica,” Jake had told her, as they sipped coffee and watched the fog roll in over San Francisco Bay. “I’ve found someone willing to testify to Manning’s abuse. But now ….”

It had been three weeks since Duncan’s last email. Everything had appeared fine, but suddenly, with no warning, he was gone. Wiedman hadn’t been able to pick up any trace of him, and almost all the money in the offshore account was gone.

“The last we heard, Duncan and Lilly were living in Australia,” Jake had told Veronica.

But she already knew that.

Two months after he evaded Lamb and the FBI, a postcard had appeared in the Mars’ mailbox. It was addressed simply “resident,” but she’d known instantly it was meant for her. The date on the postmark – Logan’s birthday – and the building depicted on the front had been carefully chosen by Duncan to let her know he and his baby were safe.

Over the years, she’d received more than a half dozen postcards from around the world, mailed on days significant only to a handful of people. Two of the postcards, the first ones, were of buildings designed by the same architect – Louis Kahn. Eventually, she’d figured out Duncan was trying to point her to an online gallery artists used to display their work. When she clicked on I.M. Kahn’s photo of a yellow bulbine lily, a flower indigenous to Australia, Veronica knew she’d found him.

It was dicey keeping the postcards, but she’d shredded the ones leading to the online gallery. The others were safe, because she and Logan were the only people who’d understand what they meant. They were, after all, the last remaining members of the Fabulous Four.

Veronica always regretted lying to Logan the night he’d asked about Duncan. But she’d done it for his own good. He’d had enough brushes with the law without getting dragged into an on-going FBI kidnapping investigation. It had been easy hiding the truth from him. They’d never discussed the Kane siblings per se, aside from a few casual remarks here and there. She hadn’t wanted to push the subject, assuming Logan would never understand the bond she shared with Duncan. How could he, when the first girl he’d ever loved betrayed him in the worst conceivable way?

So, she’d kept silent. Normally, she wasn’t one to play the what-if game, but from time to time, she’d found herself wondering what might have happened if Duncan had stayed in Neptune. For years she’d thought of Duncan Kane as a brilliant, unfulfilled promise – a white knight, waiting in the wings. He was her first love, and the memories of that sweet, heady time were hard to let go. Especially after the way it all came to a crashing end.

The plane’s jostling touch down woke Veronica, and she looked out to see they’d landed at Sydney Airport. Time to start hunting for Duncan. After she picked up her luggage, Veronica ducked into a restroom and quickly dug out a large make-up case. She freshened up and donned a black wig and dark glasses before going out to hail a cab. If anyone else was after Duncan and his daughter, she didn’t want to be recognized.

Jake had given her a disposable cell phone and prepaid credit card to use while she was in Australia. She’d had to leave her own cell back in San Francisco, to avoid being traced, and, just to be extra cautious, she’d given up her laptop, too. She mourned its loss, however temporary. Although Jake had given her another one to use, it wasn’t the same. She still hadn’t finished changing all the settings to her liking.

Wiedman had been able to track Duncan to a resort town along the coast of New South Wales. Mollymook was known for its pristine beaches and lush golf courses. Under the name Michael Kahn, Duncan had been renting a small, isolated bungalow near the water for nearly four years.

Veronica had already scoped out places to stay, and after a couple quick calls, she was able to book a motel room about ten minutes from Duncan’s seaside home. She checked in and allowed herself an hour to take a short nap and shower before going back out to investigate the local surroundings.

After verifying Duncan and Lilly were indeed gone, Veronica watched the house for a couple of days, waiting for the right time to sneak in through the sliding glass doors facing the ocean. Surrounded by a high wooden fence covered with flowering jasmine, the occupants of the cozy little house were well protected from prying eyes. Wooden shutters and thick drapes provided additional shields.

Inside, plenty of lights made the house bright and airy. Wide, painted wooden beams crisscrossed the ceilings of the large, open living room and eating area that led into the galley-style kitchen. Except for a few toys lying scattered on the floor, Duncan kept a very neat house. The kitchen counter had been wiped clean, not even a box of cereal had been left out, and all the dishes were put away, save for a plastic pink cup that sat drying by the sink.

The bedrooms, however, showed signs of harried packing. A stack of folded shirts lay discarded on Duncan’s bed. Dresser drawers and closets in both rooms had pockets of empty space between the clothing left behind. A desk in the corner of the master bedroom had obviously held a laptop, judging from a nearby ink-jet printer and photo scanner, but the computer was missing, along with any personal papers such as bills, bank statements, or letters.

There were no signs of a struggle, and from all appearances, they’d packed up and left on their own steam, albeit in a hurry. Duncan had learned to cover his tracks well. From outlines in the dust and unused refrigerator magnets, she saw he’d even taken all his photographs. As far as she could tell, there was nothing in the house that would help her trace the missing family.

After she’d searched his house, Veronica took some time getting familiar with Mollymook. She scoped out the neighborhood supermarket, café, shopping mall and of course, the beaches, and began asking the locals about Michael Kahn and his four-and-a-half year-old daughter, Lilly.

“He’s an old friend,” she explained. “I haven’t seen him in years, and I heard he was living here.”

“You mean our American?” the burly clerk at the market said. “Nice bloke. Cute baby. Works from home, I think. Haven’t seen him around lately, come to think of it.”

The owner of the café Duncan frequented, told Veronica he was a single father who worked from his home as some kind of consultant, while caring for his young daughter.

When Veronica spoke with his neighbors, they all had the same story. Duncan had told everyone he was a computer consultant from Los Angeles whose wife had died when Lilly was still an infant. There was just enough truth to make the false life he’d created credible, although Veronica doubted Duncan actually took in any work. He would play things safe by staying low-key, and not having a job was about as low-key as you could get.

Veronica also discovered that none of his neighbors had seen the nice Mr. Kahn, or his daughter, for over three weeks.

“It was a little sudden,” said the woman who lived across the road. “One day he started talking about taking a long vacation somewhere and the next – poof – he was gone. Must be some vacation, eh?” Although they told her it was as if he’d packed up his daughter and left the house in the middle of the night, no one she spoke to had actually seen him putting suitcases into his car, or drive away.

“Did you hear anything? Maybe car doors slamming, or crying?” she asked.

“No, but we wouldn’t, would we? Their house is set apart from ours, and in all the time they’ve lived there, we haven’t heard a peep from them – not even when Lilly was a baby,” his next door neighbor, Tom Barney, said.

But Mrs. Barney grew still as she considered Veronica’s question. “You know, dear, I think that might’ve been the night I couldn’t sleep, remember? Our daughter and her husband took us to dinner for my birthday and I had coffee with dessert. I was up half the night … I happened to be at the window, and I thought I saw Michael’s car driving away. But it was the strangest thing.”

“Strange? How so?” Veronica asked.

“Well, it was late, past midnight probably, and the headlights weren’t even on.”

The next morning, Veronica went to work tracking the owner of Duncan and Lilly’s little bungalow on the beach. Property records showed it belonged to a Shane Williams of Sydney, who inherited the house, and sense of thriftiness, from his father. Instead of paying a property manager, Mr. Williams handled all the rental transactions himself.

The side trip to Sydney further delayed Veronica, but a quick look through Mr. Williams’ meticulous files revealed Duncan had paid his rent to the end of the year. There was nothing to indicate he had any intention of breaking the lease.

By then, nearly three weeks had gone by, and Veronica had little or nothing to show for her time in Australia. She kept Jake Kane apprised of her investigation through daily calls to Wiedman, who was also getting messages to her father. “I’m not sure what more I can do here. I’m running out of leads,” Veronica told him one day, thinking she’d already used up every clue she had.

“Mr. Kane is adamant you remain on the case. I don’t need to tell you, he is frantic about his son and grandchild. We both think you’re the one best suited to find them.”

Veronica was also growing increasingly worried about Duncan. Briefly, she considered the horrifying possibility he and Lilly had somehow met with foul play. It seemed unlikely, however, that a kidnapper, or killer, would have taken the time to pack their belongings and personal effects, including photographs.

_But what could have spooked Duncan enough to leave in the dead of the night, taking only what he could easily carry?_

She realized it was a long shot, but Veronica decided to retrace his steps, piecing together his daily routine from what neighbors and other locals had told her. Every morning, she rose early and had breakfast at the café, where she read the local newspaper before running errands around town. Her afternoons were spent on the beach, scanning the sand from behind dark glasses for any suspicious-looking people.

Veronica’s frustration was mounting. She’d been away from home for nearly month, and desperately wished she could talk to her father, but didn’t dare risk it. On top of everything else, she was all too aware of the fast-approaching deadline for deciding between grad school and the FBI. So much for taking the summer off to decide, she grumbled silently one morning while straightening her wig.

Later that day, as she wandered down the market’s freezer aisle, looking for ice cream, Veronica caught the reflection of a dark-haired man standing nearby, reaching for a box of pizza rolls. She quickly averted her face and walked away, abandoning her basket of groceries as she exited the market. Back in her rental car, she sat and waited until he came out.

Veronica had only gotten a brief glimpse, but now, as she watched the man load bags into his car, she knew she’d seen that long, pointed nose and jet-black goatee before.

Although it had been several years, she was certain they’d crossed paths in Neptune, and she knew without a doubt the mysterious man was the reason Duncan was once again on the run with his daughter.

**********

_Glancing around, Veronica slid the plastic key card into the lock, pushing the door ajar as she hesitantly stuck her head inside. The suite was empty. Relieved, she let the door shut behind her and did a cursory scan of the living area before heading into Duncan’s darkened bedroom._

_Her blond, blue-eyed boyfriend had been gone for two months, which meant, technically, he wasn’t her boyfriend anymore. It was high time she made it official by picking up the belongings she’d left in his suite at the Neptune Grande. She would’ve done it sooner, but she wanted to avoid running into Logan. When she’d seen him, in the parking lot after school, necking with his latest ingénue, Veronica clenched her teeth and figured the suite would be clear for a while._

_It didn’t take long. The dresser held a couple tee-shirts and a pair of socks, which she tossed on the bed. All she found in the bathroom was a toothbrush and some hair bands. A few minutes later, Veronica’s pile had grown to include her well-thumbed copy of “To Kill a Mockingbird” and the jump drive with Meg’s computer files._

_It was the sum total of her relationship with Duncan._

_The only other item she took was a photo he’d kept tucked in his nightstand drawer. As she studied the image of herself mugging for the camera on prom night, along with Logan, Lilly and Duncan, her throat suddenly clogged._

_It reminded her of a time when her relationship with Duncan had been sweet, simple. But that was before Lilly’s death, before Veronica’d had to continually bite her tongue for fear of upsetting him, and before he felt the need to lie to his parents about her, as if their relationship was a shameful secret. So much had been left unsaid between them, and now she would never know how things might’ve played out if they’d been allowed to follow their natural course._

_She swallowed and swiped at her eyes just as the door burst open._

_“Wrong room, asshole.”_

_Veronica whirled to see Logan’s silhouette in the doorway, baseball bat in hand and raised to swing. He quickly lowered his arms when he realized it was her, and she heard him swear as he flicked on the light switch._

_“Fuck, Veronica! You couldn’t knock?” Expelling a loud breath, Logan tossed the bat in a corner. Spotting her belongings scattered on the bed, he raised an amused eyebrow. “Stealing souvenirs, I see.”_

_She rolled her eyes as she began stuffing everything into her bag. “I had to pick up my stuff,” she said, hoping he didn’t hear her voice quaver. “I thought you’d still be at school.”_

_Logan plopped onto the bench at the foot of the bed and leaned back on his elbows. “Why would I stay in that hell hole any longer than necessary?”_

_“I don’t know. Maybe, say, to swap spit with a certain plastic surgeon’s daughter?”_

_“Spying on me, Mars? Or just looking for inspiration?”_

_Veronica’s only response was a vicious tug on her bag’s zipper. She could see him studying her, and to her horror, she found herself blinking back tears._ What the hell was that about? _Holding her breath, she braced for more derisive sneering from her bad boy ex._

_But Logan surprised her. He was quiet for a long moment, and just when she was about to flee, he reached out a tentative hand. “Hey,” he whispered, giving her shoulder a comforting squeeze._

_His gesture touched Veronica, and when she looked up to meet Logan’s gaze, the usual defiant bitterness had been replaced with concern. She smiled gratefully, and when he grinned back, she caught a glimpse of the boy she’d spent last summer necking with, who could make her moan, or laugh, with just a quirk of the lips._

_“I miss him, too,” he said softly._

_“… What?”_

_“Duncan. The guy who used to live here? Your blood sugar getting too low?” Logan teased. He stood, and nodded toward the door. “Come on. I was just going to Amy’s for ice cream. I’ll treat you to a sundae.”_

_Veronica considered the invitation briefly, before opening her mouth to decline. She had a calculus test to study for, and there was still Jane’s runaway bride sister to hunt down. Besides, spending time with Logan Echolls was just a bad idea, wasn’t it?_

_“Sure,” she heard herself say. “Why not?”_

_Later, when they were slurping spoonfuls of vanilla ice cream, strawberries and marshmallow syrup, Veronica eyed Logan across the old-fashioned bistro table._

_“So, who were you expecting?”_

_“You’ll have to be more specific. Who was I expecting naked in my bed? Who did I expect to fluff my pillows? The list is endless.”_

_“Who did you think broke into your hotel suite?”_

_Logan shrugged. “Also endless. There’s your pal Weevil, the Fitzpatricks …”_

_“…You were going to confront the Fitzpatricks with a baseball bat?” Veronica’s voice rose. “Here’s a tip: if the Fitzpatricks come after you, they’re going to bring guns. You would’ve been better off getting out of there and calling the police.”_

_“I’m beginning to wish I had,” he retorted._

_“Jesus, Logan. You’re a walking bull’s eye,” she said, shaking her head and glaring at him._

_“So you’ve said. You need new material, Mars,” Logan said dully, as he sat back and glanced away, looking for all the world like a disinterested, sullen teenager._

_“What if I’d been Hannah’s father?” Veronica persisted. “Don’t you think he’ll have something to say about you deflowering his daughter just to blackmail him?”_

_Logan kept his gaze fixed on the marble tabletop. “Ever consider I might actually care about Hannah?” he mumbled._

_“Oh, so you’re not seducing an innocent virgin for your own, evil purposes? Please.” Veronica rolled her eyes. She regretted her harsh words an instant late, when she saw hurt flicker in Logan’s eyes._

Way to be a total bitch, Veronica.

_Here he was, going out of his way to be kind, and her response had been to judge and harangue him. She’d all but accused him of being a heartless ass, when she, of all people, knew the true depths of Logan’s heart._

_She’d been out of sorts all day, well … since lunch, when she’d looked up from her books to see Logan and Hannah sharing an apple. But jealousy had nothing to do with why she’d been so rattled by the sight of Logan’s large, gentle hands cupping Hannah’s face, Veronica told herself, even though nearly catching him in flagrante with Big Dick’s slutty trophy wife had thrown her into a similar tizzy._

_No, Logan was dead wrong when he’d accused her of being jealous. It just pissed her off to see how little regard he seemed to have for his own life. They’d been broken up for months, so she shouldn’t even care anymore, but witnessing his reckless behavior terrified Veronica, and she was twisted up in knots from the anger, fear and okay, maybe, a few jealous twinges._

_“Logan, I …”_

_“… Spare me the sermon. I’m buying, remember?”_

_He stabbed his spoon into the sundae, just as a bell over the ice cream parlor’s door chimed. A middle-aged couple walked in. Veronica’s eyes widened in recognition as Meg’s parents passed by, glaring at her._

_“Just ignore them,” Logan said, suddenly the sensible one._

_She nodded, resisting the urge to slink down in her chair. When the bell clanged again, Veronica automatically looked up. A tall, slender man strode in glancing around the room before heading over to the Mannings’ booth. Intrigued, she peeked over her shoulder, nothing the trio’s huddled postures and serious expressions._

_She studied the newcomer, wondering who he was. His hair was black as ink; his matching goatee contrasted with his pale, white skin. He had a long, thin face and nose, and he gave Veronica the creeps._

_“I wish I knew what they were talking about,” she said in a hushed voice._

_“It’s always business with you,” Logan scoffed good-naturedly. He pushed back his chair and stood. “I’ll go pay the bill. Be right back.”_

_While he was gone, Veronica strained her ears, hoping to catch a snippet of conversation, with had no luck. Logan returned a few minutes later, and they left after he threw some bills on the table for a tip. He was silent until they were safely ensconced in his Xterra, then he proffered a gift._

_“Levis and church. The guy said something about a Levi center and Meg’s dad wanted to discuss it with a friend from their church. Mean anything to you?”_

_Veronica hesitated, her thoughts flipping back to a hospital room and a frightened girl who’d warned her about an adoption center with heavy-handed, ultra-religious leanings. She stared blankly at Logan for several, long moments while he looked back expectantly._

_“No, it doesn’t,” she said, slowly shaking her head. Logan managed to get himself into plenty of trouble on his own. She didn’t need to involve him in her problems as well._

_“Yeah, sure, Mars,” he said skeptically._

_A few weeks later, thoughts of Logan were again torturing Veronica, along with nightmares about the kids who died in the bus crash. Earlier that day, she’d questioned him about the janitor named Lucky. She should’ve known, from the smirk on his face, the information would cost her._

_Logan had mercilessly dredged up each and every detail of one of their many steamy back seat romps, and the memory of what he’d done with his hands and mouth, all while they’d been fully clothed, made her face burn. When she’d fled to AP English, he’d been lounging against the locker,s still prattling on about greener grass._

_Her teacher had chosen that day to make the class watch Hollywood’s take on The Golden Bowl, and she’d used the opportunity to rest her tired head on the cool desktop and closing her eyes. Lately, all Veronica’s encounters with Logan left her flustered._

_Despite her foolish impulse at last week’s Sadie Hawkins dance, she hadn’t expected all the old feelings to resurface, or the heady desire that had fluttered in her belly the moment his warm hands settled on her waist. As their bodies swayed, just barely grazing one another, she’d breathed in Logan’s unique scent – a spicy mix of citrus and ocean air…_

_“Dreaming of me again, Veronica?”_

_Logan’s low, sexy drawl jerked Veronica from her cat nap and she sat up, fighting panic._ Oh God, was I actually moaning? _She felt her cheeks pinken and was grateful for the dimmed lights. Ignoring Logan’s conceited half-smile, she turned to the front of the room, where Kate Beckinsale was finally comprehending her husband’s affair with Uma Thurman._

_When the bell rang, Veronica slid from her chair and was the first one out the door. She threw her books in her locker and headed to her car, remembering too late the yellow monstrosity she’d parked next to. She was just slamming her trunk when he strolled up behind her._

_“Hey, you’re friends with that Fennel guy, right? I need his number.”_

_“What for?” Immediately wary, she waited for Logan to respond, but he was looking past her, a puzzled expression on his face. She turned to see what had shocked him into silence._

_Two men were standing near the school’s maintenance shed, obviously in deep conversation. Veronica stared, her apprehension growing when she recognized the older man as the same one she and Logan had seen with the Mannings a few weeks ago._

_“Weird, huh?” he commented._

_“Yeah, it is. Do you know the guy he’s talking to?”_

_Logan looked back down at Veronica, his brow furrowed. “Don’t you remember? You were just asking about him this morning._ That’s _Tommy Dohanic. Also known as Lucky.”_

**********

After spotting the dark-haired man in the market, Veronica tailed him from a safe distance, driving a few miles to an apartment complex not unlike the one she and her dad lived in. She watched him carry his groceries to a first floor unit, unlock the door and go inside. He stayed just long enough to put away his groceries. When he left a half hour later, Veronica checked the name on the mailbox.Her suspicions had been confirmed by the neatly-typed label – R. Dohanic. Lucky’s father, or an uncle, perhaps?

It didn’t really matter. Somehow he’d managed to trace Duncan and Lilly to Mollymook. What else did he know about their latest disappearance, she’d wondered.

She spent the next several days trailing Dohanic. Breakfast at the café, errands, then the beach in the afternoon. At night, he’d cruise tourist hot spots, going from club to club, sometimes spending the night with some pretty, young thing, although never at his own place. _The Ten Commandments need revision. Thou shall not covet floozies._

She didn’t see him talk to anyone, other than sales clerks and waitresses, or the girls he’d pick up at bars, leaving her to assume he’d been sent to Mollymook alone. Once again she was out of leads, and she could either continue following him ‘till doomsday, or search his apartment for anything that might reveal what he and the Mannings were up to, or clues to Duncan and Lilly’s whereabouts.

Now, if he would just hurry up and leave already. Veronica took a sip of her now cold cup of coffee, grimacing at the stale bitterness before placing it back in the plastic cup holder. She was becoming increasingly cranky and impatient. The economy sedan wasn’t exactly the most comfortable car for stakeouts. Also, the long, drawn out hours when she had nothing to do gave her too much time to miss home – and Logan.

She’d been tempted to call on numerous occasions, but caution always stopped her. She’d reasoned her dad would keep him posted – as much as he could, anyway. But the knowledge didn’t make up for not being able to hear Logan’s deep chuckle or droll comments. And it sure as hell didn’t make up for the lonely nights.

By now, Veronica didn’t just miss Logan’s touch – she _ached_ for it. Too many nights, she’d lain awake, alone in her motel room bed, her body on fire, remembering the last time his hands had roamed torturously over her skin, her breasts, inside her. Logan was a consummate lover; his patience and passion had healed a part of her she’d thought damaged for good. He’d also awakened an inner wantonness she’d never known existed. Not one to rush sex, he was content to spend hours lazily stoking her desire until she was practically screaming to be taken.

She squirmed and for the hundredth time since she left Neptune, wished she’d called him to explain. She’d never anticipated it would take so long to find Duncan. A whole month had gone by, and Logan was probably in Italy or France. _I should’ve gone with him._ Wistfully, she remembered all the effort he’d gone through just to get her to accept his generous gift.

For months, he’d stubbornly waged a clever campaign to convince her. Whether it was museum highlights he’d known would catch her interest, or the unsolved mystery of two English princes who’d disappeared from the London Tower more than a century ago, Logan had taken every opportunity to tantalize her.

“Ever had a banana Nutella _crepe_?” he’d asked her over pancakes one morning. “DK told me Lilly tried to FedEx one to you from Paris, but I guess that expensive French tutor she was so in love with didn’t cover BFF emergencies.”

Veronica had forgotten about Charles-Henri, the “sinfully sexy” tutor Celeste Kane had insisted on hiring for Lilly and Duncan the year they’d spent the summer in France. But in typical Lilly fashion, she’d learned more about French _kissing_ than the French language. Unlike her brother …

A flash of movement across the street caught her eye, and she slumped low in her seat as Dohanic ambled to his car and drove away. Within minutes, she’d picked the cheap lock, and was inside his sparsely-furnished, two-bedroom apartment.

It was obvious, from the lack of shelves or drawers, the living area wouldn’t have much, but Veronica checked under the sofa cushions just in case. There was nothing incriminating, and a search of the kitchen and dining room yielded a similar result. Except for a few clothes and toiletries, the closet and dresser in the master bedroom were empty.

She wasn’t expecting to find anything in the nightstand drawer either, but she was wrong. A Browning 9-milimeter gun lay on top of a Bible, and a quick check revealed it was loaded. Suppressing a shiver, she carefully replaced the gun.

She hit the jackpot in the second bedroom, which Dohanic was apparently using as an office. A laptop lay open on the desk and, while his files were downloading onto the handy flash drive she kept in her bag for just such an occasion, Veronica rooted through the drawers, where she found a Nikon digital camera along with a long-range zoom lens. Out came her own laptop, which she plugged the camera into, and uploaded a couple dozen images. From the thumbnails, they appeared to be surveillance shots of a house, the beach and various gathering areas around Mollymook.

Veronica was just closing the open computer files when she heard footsteps just outside the office window. She snuck a peek through the drapes, fighting back a wave of panic as Dohanic approached his apartment door, keys in hand. _Shit! He wasn’t supposed to be back this early._ She quickly finished shutting down the files, shoved her laptop back into her bag, and, after glancing around to make sure everything was the way she’d found it, ducked into the closet.

Holding her breath, she waited and listened as his light steps moved from the living room into the office. After a few clicks, she determined he was surfing the ‘Net. Moments later, the relative silence was broken by a tinny tune, followed by a beep.

“Yeah? It’s looking like the kid split for good. He hasn’t been back to the house, and no one’s seen him.” Dohanic paused for several moments as he listened to the person on the other end. “She’s gone, too. She was hanging around for a while, so I thought there was something to it, but it was probably nothing. I’ll probably stay another week or two, just in case.”

He hung up, and Veronica heard him turn off the computer before heading into the hallway. A few minutes later, the sound of running water provided the perfect cover to slip out of the apartment. She got into the car, and with a trembling hand, turned the ignition. As she drove, she kept checking the rearview mirror.

Back at the motel, she couldn’t shake her paranoia, so she packed her bags and checked out. Three hours later, she unlocked the door to her new hotel room on the outskirts of Sydney. Exhausted, but unable to sleep, she lay curled on the bed and watched the flickering green numbers of the digital clock slowly change, calculating the time back home in California.

As she dropped her eyes to her phone on the nightstand, she came to a decision and reached out to pick it up, her hand still quavering. It was the middle of the night in Neptune, but Veronica didn’t care. She started to dial the number, reasoning she could always buy another disposable cell as soon as the stores opened. I won’t talk long, she thought. _I just need to hear his voice._

She was about to hit the send button when the phone began to vibrate in her hand, making her jump. It was Wiedman, anxious for her report. “You checked out of the motel,” he said without preamble.

“Yeah. Just taking extra precautions. I’m in Sydney, now.” Briefly, Veronica filled him in, concluding Duncan must have spotted Dohanic and somehow recognized him. “I doubt he knows where they are. He’s just been hanging around hoping they’ll come back. I still have his computer files to go through, but there probably isn’t much there.”

“Okay. Lay low for a couple of days. We need to decide what to do next. I’ll get back to you.”

“Wait. There’s more. I think Duncan is in France – Paris, most likely.”

“…How do you know?”

“I just do,” Veronica answered, thinking about banana Nutella crepes and French lessons.

“Book yourself on the first flight out. Mr. Kane will insist you go.”

Veronica hung up and sighed. She opened her laptop to check for available flights, completely forgetting her earlier moment of weakness.

**********

Logan sat on the wet, cold sand, bottle in hand, staring at the inky blackness of the Pacific Ocean. The glowing clock on his cell phone provided the only illumination in the dark night, and he kept glancing at it, wondering what time it was in Australia. It was useless to hope she’d call, but he couldn’t help wishing anyway. He just wanted to hear her voice again.

Logan had been up all night, unable to sleep since finding those damned postcards. Now that he finally knew where Veronica was, other questions tortured him. Like, how the hell had she managed to send messages to Duncan all these years? Or did she? He’d always known Veronica had helped Duncan flee Neptune. He’d loved DK like a brother, but there was no way in hell he could’ve given the slip to Lamb and the FBI without help from a certain short, blonde sleuth. Still, it was one thing to stage a single, spectacular disappearing act, and another to repeatedly risk capture by corresponding with a wanted fugitive. Not even Veronica could be that crazy – right?

Then again, he knew better than anyone the irrevocable connection between Duncan and Veronica. She’d gone back to him once before. And if Logan still missed his old friend, she inevitably did, too. Over the years, he’d been tempted to ask, but always stopped, afraid to hear her answer. He’d always thought maybe, Duncan was Veronica’s one true love, if there was such a thing.

They certainly suited one another. They were both smart, serious people, and if Duncan hadn’t left Neptune, his future would’ve been every bit as bright as Veronica’s, with or without the Kane fortune. And, try as he might, Logan couldn’t remember ever witnessing them fight, or even argue. Whereas he and Veronica had raised bickering to a whole new art form.

But even during their worst fights, there’d always been an unmistakable heat and passion between them. She couldn’t fake something like that. She just didn’t always know her own heart. Despite everything, Logan had no doubt Veronica cared about him. She probably even loved him … though maybe not as much as she loved Duncan.

Logan lifted the bottle and took a long swallow, welcoming the liquid’s slow burn. The tequila had gotten him just drunk enough to make his estimation of the fifteen-hour time difference, in all probability, wrong. He thought it was early Down Under, so she was either in bed, asleep, or eating breakfast.

 _Or, she was still in bed -_ not _sleeping._

He drained the last of the tequila and threw the bottle into the water, falling back against the sand. _Congratulations, DK,_ he thought, swallowing thickly. _Guess the better man won after all._

**********

_Logan rubbed his neck and yawned, blinking blearily at the neon lights through the windshield of Veronica’s Saturn. It was nearly 3 a.m., and he was sorely tempted to check into the Camelot just to get some shut eye, and maybe even a little nookie. He didn’t need to glance at his girlfriend to know he wouldn’t be getting lucky tonight, however. She was on the prowl, and he knew there’d be no deterring her._

_“You know, you don’t have to be here. Wouldn’t you rather be somewhere else, say asleep in your nice, warm bed?” Veronica’s sultry purr was teasing. “You could always call a cab.”_

_But they both knew Logan wasn’t going anywhere. When she’d told him she had to cancel their date, again, to brave one of the seediest clubs in Neptune to tail some guy with a predilection for strippers, he’d insisted on going with her. Veronica had a real knack for getting into sticky situations, and he hated to think of her alone on the streets, late at night._

_“I’d rather be naked with you, in my nice, warm bed, but a stakeout at the Camelot? Close second, baby … Although, you know, we could just get naked right here.” Logan grinned at her loud guffaw, marveling how she made even a derisive snort sound sexy._

_“Sooo not happening, but, for what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re here.”_

_He turned to look at her in the darkened car, and reached over the center console to caress her cheek. “Remind me again, what’s so special about this guy that you’d pass up a night in heaven with me?”_

_“He’s a big-shot divorce attorney who’s cheating on his wife.”_

_“How do you know?”_

_She rolled her eyes and huffed loudly. “I know. His wife found receipts for lingerie and jewelry she doesn’t own, and he’s been coming home late. Apparently, he’s a repeat offender and once a cheater, always a cheater.”_

_“Always?” Logan shifted, the air in the car feeling suddenly stale._

_“Always,” she affirmed. “You, of all people, should know that. You’re not going all Pollyanna on me, are you?”_

_“No, but, don’t you get tired of always thinking the worst of people?”_

_“Nope. I’d rather be prepared than disappointed.”_

_Logan nodded and frowned slightly, wondering again what Veronica would do if she knew the truth. Hell, who was he kidding? He knew exactly what she’d do – dump him in a heartbeat and never look back._

_Ever since they’d gotten back together, Veronica had been subtly pushing to know more about the girl Logan’d slept with in Aspen. “What does it matter? You don’t know her,” he’d repeated, refusing to discuss it further. He’d told her the truth – well, most of it, anyway. The little he’d left out had nothing to do with her, and he knew she would never understand, even if she did give him the chance to explain. Once a cheater, always a cheater, right?_

_He’d never told anyone the full story, and the guilt had never gone away. Sometimes, when he was feeling sorry for himself, Logan was convinced his one mistake would haunt him for the rest of his life. Then he remembered what it had cost the girl and figured he deserved it._

_He’d just begun to think he could put it past him when he ran into Darian. Even from across the dim room at the Aspen ski lodge, he’d recognized her snapping green eyes. At first, he’d thought it was just some sort of bizarre, alcohol-induced flashback, but it quickly became all too real when he woke the next morning, dehydrated and hung over, her naked body draped over his._

_“Gotcha.” Veronica’s boastful half-whisper was followed by a series of clicks as she held up her camera and aimed it one of the first-floor motel rooms. The man they’d tailed from the Seventh Veil emerged, along with a barely-clad 20-something, her legs still wrapped around his waist. “I hate to say I told you so, but …”_

_“You never know, she could be teaching him to tango. Does this mean we can go? I need my beauty sleep.”_

_“Yes, you do, but I was thinking we could mosey on over to the Grand and, you know, tango.”_

_Logan smirked. “What about your dad?”_

_“He took ballroom dancing – he already knows how to tango.”_

_“Jeez, Veronica, some boundaries, please? I think I just lost my boner.”_

_“Want me to help you find it?” She flashed a kittenish smile, leaning over to slide her hand along his thigh. By the time their mouths met, it wasn’t a problem anymore._

_The next morning, they slept in, rising just before noon. Hours later, after he fucked her slowly against the steamed up, glass shower walls, they finally left his suite, to forage for coffee._

_It was Saturday and the campus food court was virtually empty. While Veronica scoped out a spot and began spreading out her books, he stood in line for espresso. When he reached their table, she was talking to some girl. He froze when he saw who. Heart pounding, he handed Veronica one of the cups, and slid into the chair beside her._

_“Thanks,” she said, giving him a grateful smile as she took a sip. “Oops, sorry. Do you two know each other? Darian, this is my boyfriend, Logan …”_

_“Oh, Logan and I go way back. Our fathers worked on some movie together, years ago. How’re you doing? I haven’t seen you since Christmas.”_

_Out of the corner of his eye, Logan saw Veronica’s head turn sharply. He ignored her look of surprise and offered Darian a terse smile, mumbling something about ancient professors and boring lectures._

_“So are you going to Cabo for spring break? The Zetas and Pi Sigs plan it every year. It’s supposed to be a blast. You should see the resort they booked. Way nicer than Aspen,” Darian gushed._

_Logan shook his head. “We’re not going, but I think Dick is.”_

_“Oh, too bad. We could’ve had a blast. But speaking of Mexico, Veronica, I was stunned when I read about you and that thing with Mercer Hayes. At first, I couldn’t believe he was a rapist, but then again, he did practically burn down a hotel.”_

_Later, when she was gone, Logan glanced warily at Veronica, who was staring absently ahead, not bothering to look at the open book in front of her. “You two have a class together?” he asked, striving to sound casual._

_“No,” she replied in a clipped voice. “Lilly introduced us once. A long time ago.”_

_Shocked, he struggled to maintain an impassive expression, but the espresso he’d been so eager to gulp down was suddenly burning holes in his stomach. He was still trying to process this new bit of info when Veronica spoke._

_“You and Darian seem to run in the same circles. Funny you never said anything.”_

_“Why would I? I had no idea you knew each other.”_

_“Right. You mentioned that a couple times. It’s just strange, you know? Mexico and Aspen …”_

“Don’t,” _Logan bit out, jaw clenched. “Just – don’t go there, Veronica. Nothing happened in Mexico and I’ve already told you about Aspen. It was a mistake and I regret it, but we were broken up. Either you’re okay with that, or you’re not, but you need to decide, because I’m not going to let you keep interrogating me._ I’m not a fucking suspect! _I’m your boyfriend.”_

_Logan stood, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. “I gotta get out of here. I’ll be in the library – I need to do some research, anyway. Come by or call when you’re ready to leave.” She nodded and he picked up his backpack, tossing his coffee in the trash._

_As he stalked across campus, he mentally flogged himself for losing his temper. But_ dammit, _she said she forgave him and yet, there she was – digging again. He stopped at a water fountain, and was just about to take a drink when a familiar voice stopped him._

_“I can’t believe she took you back. I warned her about you, but since when does she listen, right?”_

_“Fuck off, Weevil.”_

_“I don’t get it. What do girls see in you? I mean first Lilly, now Veronica? Your old man would be proud.”_

_Logan threw the first punch, and when his fist connected with Weevil’s jaw, it made a satisfying crack. In the end, he wound up with a dozen stitches and yet another misdemeanor on his rapidly growing rap sheet._

**********

Logan woke with a pounding headache, his skin clammy from the cold, morning ocean mist. He’d passed out on a chaise lounge, which was thankfully on his own patio, not someone else’s. He swung his legs over the side of the chair and held his head in his hands for several minutes, willing away the throbbing in his brain.

When the ground stopped tilting, he stood and made his way through the French doors into the condo, where he padded to the kitchen and downed a bottle of water, along with two aspirin. By the time he was standing under the hot spray of his shower, the pain in his head had eased, and he could think a little more clearly.

He had to let Veronica go. She wasn’t coming back, and the sooner he accepted that, the better. As the water sluiced over his body, he went over every sin, every half-truth, every mistake he’d ever made, ultimately concluding her departure, however abrupt and unexplained, was for the best.

For weeks, he’d held off making any travel plans, hoping she’d come home in time for them to go on their trip. But now, he couldn’t’ stomach the thought of visiting the places he’d wanted to take her. So, after he’d toweled off and put on a fresh pair of sweats, he opened his laptop to check out flights to Costa Rica. He’d heard the surfing was amazing, and figured now was as good a time as any to find out. Just as he was about to book a next-day flight, his phone began to ring.

“Logan? It’s me, Charlie. You got a sec?”

During their sophomore year at Hearst, just a few days after Thanksgiving, Veronica had come across an obituary in the newspaper for Katherine Stone, of San Juan Capistrano. She’d died of cervical cancer. The brief announcement listed her son Charlie, Logan’s half-brother, as her only surviving relative.

“Maybe you should give him another call,” she’d gently urged. “He’s all alone, Logan. He might appreciate the gesture.”

Instead, he’d sent flowers and a condolence card. Two weeks after his mother was buried, Charlie called Logan. They’d met for coffee a few days later. Gradually, over the past couple of years, the brothers managed to cultivate a tentative friendship. It was one of the few relationships Logan cherished.

“Hey, Charlie. What’s up?”

“I need a favor – a big one. You don’t have any plans for the next few days, do you?”

Charlie, an English teacher at one of Southern California’s most exclusive prep schools, spent his vacations running a free summer camp at a community center for inner-city teens. In addition to computer access, field trips to area museums, the movies and Neptune Pier, the highlight of the program was a week-long camping trip to Yosemite National Park.

“The thing is, one of the chaperones got the measles, so now I’m short one responsible adult,” Charlie explained. “If I can’t find a replacement, I’m going to have to cancel the trip.”

“So you want me to recommend someone?” Logan asked hopefully.

“Actually, I need you to fill in. I’m desperate, Logan. I’d hate to disappoint the kids. They’re really looking forward to this.”

Logan heaved a sigh. “You _must_ be desperate if you’re asking me. I’ll bet if you checked around, the consensus on whether I’m a ‘responsible adult’ would be overwhelmingly negative. As we speak, I’m nursing the mother of all hangovers. Are you sure you want _me_?”

“You’re over 21, right?”

“Barely.”

“Ever been convicted of a felony?”

“Convicted? No. But I have a few misdemeanors I pled no contest to, and there was this little murder beef they tried to hang on me. Do I need to go on?”

“You’ll have to be fingerprinted and go through a criminal background check, like, today. I know a guy who can expedite everything. I’ll pick you up in an hour.”

“You have a back-up plan by any chance?” But Charlie had already hung up. So much for Costa Rica, Logan thought as he began to get dressed.

Three days later, bright and early, Logan boarded the chartered bus along with Charlie, two women camp counselors and forty-five squealing middle schoolers. By the end of the nearly eight-hour drive, Logan had a headache to rival even his worst hangover, and he itched to toss out at least one pig-tailed tattler who insisted on shrieking in his ear.

“Mr. Echolls! Percy won’t sit down.”

“Mr. Echolls! Jason keeps bothering me.”

“ _Mr. Echolls_ ! Ryan pulled my _hair_.”

Logan had never hated his name more – which was saying a lot, given who his father was. The trip got progressively worse from there.

The morning of the first day, he accidentally overslept. Not only were all the boys in his cabin late getting to the trailhead, but they’d missed breakfast, too. Even though Logan bought every bag of trail mix in the tiny Mariposa Grove convenience store, the kids complained loud and long, until he wanted to throw himself in front of one of the shuttles crammed with tourists.

“Ew, what’s this brown stuff?” said a chubby seventh-grader named Juan. “Looks like rat sh…”

“…Well, it’s not. It’s some kind of … sesame thing. Just eat it. And watch your language.”

“What? You couldn’t spring for doughnuts?” another kid grumbled.

“This is better for you.”

“Yeah, whatever. Tastes like crap.”

Logan glared at Charlie over the kids’ heads, but his brother merely chuckled. By the time they finished the two-mile loop, Logan practically ripped open the locked,metal food bins where they’d stored the bag lunches.

He didn’t fare any better on the second day. After lunch, they herded all the kids into an interpretive center for a presentation by the rangers. Not five minutes into the program, Manuel, a small, skinny boy who was constantly hopping in and out of his chair, raised his hand and asked to go to the bathroom.

“You just went two minutes ago, Manny.”

“I gotta go, Mr. Echolls. I really gotta go.”

Logan relented, but ten minutes later Manny’s hand shot up again.

“Forget it.”

“But I don’t feel so good. I think I’m gonna be sick.”

“You’re not sick.”

Two more attempts and Logan started to get pissed. “You are not leaving that seat, so quit asking.”

The ranger was halfway through a lesson on the Native American tribes who once lived in the Yosemite Valley, when she was interrupted by a loud, retching sound. Manny was bent over in his chair, puking onto a girl’s purple backpack.

The room erupted in pandemonium. Screaming pre-teens ran from the rapidly-spreading stench, while poor Manny continued to throw up. The horrified girl, whose bag was now covered in vomit, screeched at Logan, who could only stand by and watch the chaos. “Fuck me,” he mumbled, rubbing his temple.

“Oooh, Mr. Echolls said the f-word!”

Hours later, after the little delinquents had been put to bed for the night, Logan was in a lawn chair outside the cabin, a cold soda can pressed to his head. After the disastrous afternoon lecture, Charlie had taken Manny to the infirmary while the rest of the counselors led the kids on an evening hike to Vernal Falls. Rated “moderate to strenuous,” the climb to the top left the hellions exhausted, and Logan hadn’t heard a peep all night.

“So, you survived.”

Logan looked up to see Charlie coming up the walkway. His brother reached into the cooler and took out a soda before collapsing into the chair next to him. “How’s Manny? Is he okay?” Logan asked nervously.

“He’s fine. He’s probably just got the bug that’s been going around. He wants to tough it out for a few days, see if he feels well enough to join in later.”

Logan nodded and sighed, relieved. “Look, Charlie, I’m really sorry about today, about the whole trip. I’m totally screwing up … I told you, I suck at the whole adult thing.”

But the older man just laughed. “You didn’t screw up, Logan. Things happen. You’re doing fine. You’re not going to weasel your way out of this.”

“I still can’t believe I passed the damned background check. What kind of standards do these schools have anyway?” Logan groused.

It was late, and they had an early morning guided mule ride through Tuolumne Meadows, but they stayed up anyway, laughing and talking and commiserating over chips and sodas. In between handfuls of cheese puffs, Charlie mentioned he got an offer to teach English at a middle school in Neptune.

“You actually want the job? Aren’t you at, like, the best prep school in the state?”

“Yeah, but prestige doesn’t pay. Besides, I’m sick of dealing with a bunch of spoiled, rich kids - not to mention their parents. This Neptune school, well, let’s just say it’s not in your old zip code. But it’ll be more like what I do here, more rewarding.”

“So, does this mean you’re moving to Neptune?”

Charlie nodded. “I need to settle in first, but I was thinking, I should probably learn how to surf. Know anyone who could teach me?”

“I might,” Logan answered with a grin.

“Cool.” Charlie took another sip of his soda. “So what’s Veronica been up to? You two still going to Europe?”

“Uh, no. She’s been on some out-of-town case since graduation …. Actually, she’s probably going to move back east. The FBI offered her an internship, so …” Logan’s voice trailed off.

“Are you going with her?”

“No,” Logan breathed out, his voice a little shaky. It was the first time he’d copped to the impending break-up aloud, and telling Charlie made it all the more real.

“I’m sorry to hear that. You guys seemed good together.”

Logan shrugged, remembering a younger, happier Veronica nestled in Duncan’s arms. “Yeah, well, it’s probably for the best. I’m surprised we lasted as long as we did.”

The next day was relatively uneventful. Logan broke up a fight, stopped some kids from feeding potato chips to the deer, and had to confiscate three cell phones after a little innocent text-messaging erupted into a screaming match between three “homegirls.”

Later that night, he was hurrying up the steps to the dining hall when he almost tripped over a seventh-grade girl. Crouched on the bottom stair, her face was completely hidden by long sheets of the shiniest black hair he’d ever seen. Bony arms clutched convulsively around equally scrawny knees, and when she sniffled, he was dismayed to see she’d been sobbing.

 _Shit._ Logan _hated_ it when girls cried. Back when he’d been dating Lilly, all she had to do was squeeze out a few tears and he turned to putty. Stifling a groan, he looked around frantically for Charlie, or one of the other counselors, but no one was in sight. _Shit, what was her name again? Minh … no, Mai._

Gingerly, Logan sat down next to her, desperately searching his brain for something to say. “Uh, hey, Mai. Are you okay?” He paused and waited, but all he got was silence. “Want to talk about it?”

“No,” came the muffled reply.

“Okay, that’s fine. But we can’t stay out here all night. We have to eat sometime, right?” The only response was another loud snuffle. “Can I help? Would you like me to call or go get someone for you?”

Slowly, Mai shook her head, looking up as she swiped at her eyes. “Can I just go back to my cabin? Please?”

“Well, I think we should go inside and get something to eat. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.” A pair of glittering black eyes glared at him over folded arms, leaving Logan at a loss for what to do next. A few moments later, he thought of something. _What the hell? It always worked with Veronica._

“Hey,” he said, flashing his famous smile. “I hear they’re serving chocolate sundaes for dessert. You don’t want to miss that, do you?”

Mai arched one skeptical eyebrow and looked at him like he was Adult Archenemy Number One. Gradually, however, her features softened, her lips curving warily. “Okay,” she said, finally.

Relieved, Logan stood and held out his hand to help her up before they headed upstairs. As they approached the dining hall, Mai turned to him and said, “Love sucks.”

“Yes, it does.” Logan agreed, patting her shoulder.

When the Yosemite excursion finally came to an end, Logan was drained to the bone. All he could think of was collapsing onto his king-sized bed, slipping between those cool, three-hundred-thread count sheets, and sleeping for a week. He unlocked the door to his SUV, deciding to stop by an In-N-Out on his way back to Neptune, when he heard Charlie.

“Hey, Logan, wait up,” his brother said, jogging over to the Range Rover. “I just wanted to say thanks for bailing me out. I owe you, big time. You really saved my ass. I had my doubts, but you did good – really good.”

Logan ducked his head, flushing under the unaccustomed praise. “I wouldn’t thank me yet. Their parents haven’t gotten the full report. Lawsuits may ensue. I might be able to cross ‘contributing to the delinquency of a minor’ off my list of crimes to commit.”

“I’m serious, Logan. You were great with them. In fact, I was hoping you could do me another favor.”

“I’m not going on anymore camping trips.”

“It’s nothing like that,” Charlie answered with a laugh. “It’s just, some of the kids have shown an interest in writing, and I was thinking of having them start a kind-of camp newspaper. You know, give them a little experience writing articles, using computers, maybe even shooting photos. The problem is, none of the counselors have the expertise. But I know for a fact _you_ do … I can’t pay much, but I could really use your help.”

Later, Logan blamed the exhaustion and stress of spending a week with forty-five pre-adolescents, for the answer that came out of his mouth.

“Sure, Charlie,” he said. “I can do that.”

**********

Impatiently, Veronica drummed her fingers on the small, outdoor bistro tabletop. She’d been nursing her café crème for two hours, and hadn’t seen a waitress for at least forty minutes. She knew Europeans, particularly the French, enjoyed more leisurely meals than Americans, but she wasn’t writing in her travel journal, _dammit_ . She had an ex-boyfriend to hunt down, and this _laissez faire_ approach to dining was getting in her way.

Before leaving Sydney, she’d stopped at a bookstore and loaded up on Paris guides, hoping to get some idea of where in the City of Light she should start looking for a fugitive expatriate with a little girl in tow. She spent the long plane ride winnowing down neighborhoods she thought Duncan might have settled in, trying to remember the places he’d visited with his sister, the ones they’d liked.

After her plane had landed, Veronica found a small budget hotel in Montmartre, just above a metro station. She’d sprung for a room on the top floor, with French doors opening onto a small balcony where, if she craned her head just right, she could see the gleaming white Sacre Coeur basilica. Logan would’ve hated the hotel’s scratchy bedspread and tacky paintings, but she got a kick out of watching the goings on in the apartments across the way. From her perch above the tree-lined street, she could see lovers sharing breakfast together, a man reading the newspaper, and two women taking afternoon tea.

She’d spent several days wandering the cobbled streets, mingling at the neighborhood open markets, and walking along the Seine, often stopping to talk to American expats about favored hangouts. She’d been in Paris for nearly two weeks when she’d finally remembered the pink pony hand puppet Duncan had brought her all those years ago.

“ _Tres romantic_ , Donut,” Lilly had chided, rolling her eyes when she saw Veronica lift the silly toy from its gift box.

The name of the shop had been embossed on the heavy cardboard box, which she still used to store some of her favorite photographs. _Manon Martin_. Even now, she could hear Lilly’s voice as she rhapsodized over the fabulous boutiques and quaint cafes lining the streets of the Marais.

A quick Internet search had yielded an address for _Manon Martin_ , which luckily was still in business. For the past several hours, Veronica had been sitting at an outdoor café across the street, hoping her hunch would prove fruitful. So far, it hadn’t. After flagging down a waitress, she paid her bill and began walking towards the metro.

She turned onto a quiet, residential street and looked up, admiring the graceful architecture of the 16th century apartments with their intricate, wrought iron window treatments, many of which sported baskets of bright, red geraniums. As she passed a small neighborhood park tucked between two buildings, she heard a child laughing with unrestrained glee.

Veronica peered through the gate. Surrounded by rose bushes, a bronze statue of a nude woman stood in the center of the park, her shoulders thrust back proudly. The exterior walls of the flanking buildings were decorated with stone bas relief murals. Under one of them, a portly, middle-aged couple canoodled on the grass, shaded by the lacy, green leaves of a nearby chestnut tree.

High-pitched giggles rang out again, and she turned towards the sound. A man in a blue shirt and jeans sat on a bench, his head bent close to a blond-haired pixie sitting next to him. They were sharing a baguette sandwich and the girl’s face broke into a delighted grin as he affectionately swiped the tip of her nose with his finger.

She was surprised to see how much he’d altered his appearance. His hair was a muddy brown, and he wore it longer, shaggier than he used to, combed straight over his forehead. As she drew closer, she could see he was also wearing contact lenses a subtle shade brighter than his own, natural blue. To almost anyone else, he would be unrecognizable.

But Veronica would know Duncan Kane anywhere.

He looked up and smiled as their eyes met. In that instant, Veronica knew exactly what she wanted.

For years, she’d savored her memories of Duncan, and a small part of her always held on to the promise he’d made in his last, sweet declaration. But now, she realized, except for one horrible year in high school, Logan was the one who’d always been there for her, _saved her_ , comforted and loved her. Even when she pushed him away.

Veronica sat down next to her old friend, smiling fondly at him.

“I always knew you’d be the one to find me,” he said, a grin playing on his mouth.

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t easy,” she said softly. “Duncan, your dad sent me. He wants you to come home.”

As the three of them left the park, strolling towards his apartment, Veronica looked at him, tilting her head. “You might want to consider a haircut.”

Three days later, Veronica’s plane touched down at San Diego International Airport. The moment she stepped from the secured area, her father’s arms swept her into a fierce hug. “Dad! You’re crushing me,” she laughed.

“That’s what you get for staying away so long, kiddo. I missed your face. You’ll never know how close I came to siccing my deputies on Wiedman,” Keith said, holding his daughter close. “Come on, let’s go home.”

During the ride back to their apartment, Veronica sleepily filled Keith in on her search. “Duncan and Lilly are going to stay with his dad in Napa, while all the legal stuff gets hashed out. He doesn’t know what he’s going to do, yet, where he wants to live, or anything like that. But he was happy to be going home. He really wants Lilly to know her grandparents – even Celeste.”

Keith nodded. “Well, you didn’t miss much here in Neptune. It was actually relatively quiet for a change. I saw a lot of Logan, though, and let me tell you, he really put the screws to me, you know? I almost cracked a couple times. You’d better give him a call.”

“I will. Just as soon as I get a little beauty sleep,” she said, yawning.

Veronica slept through the night and well into the next day, rising only when Backup nudged her arm to let her know he had to go out. After she took him for a quick walk, she jumped in the shower, got dressed and headed over to Logan’s. No one answered when she rang the doorbell, but she’d seen his Range Rover parked across the street, so she fished out the key he’d given her the day he moved in, and unlocked the door.

Inside, the condo was quiet and still. She made her way down the silent hallway to his bedroom and pushed open the door, calling his name. It was empty. Tangled linens covered the bed. Puzzled, she was about to leave when she heard running water.

Grinning, Veronica turned, just as the most stunning woman she’d ever seen walked out of Logan’s bathroom. Naked except for a short, pale green kimono that gaped open, she was toweling the close crop of dark curls that framed her flawlessly creamy skin and perfect oval face. She looked like a freaking sea nymph, and Veronica wanted to scratch her eyes out.

It was like déjà vu, only this time, it was real. Unable to move or speak, she just stood, gawking, until the woman suddenly noticed her and jerked back in surprise. “Um, excuse me. Who are you, and what are you doing here?”

“That’s funny. I was wondering the exact same thing,” Veronica spat out. Trembling with rage, she spun on her heel and rushed out of the room, retracing her route into the living area. She halted abruptly when she caught sight of Logan stepping through the patio French doors, droplets of salt water dripping from his hair and bare, tanned skin.

He glanced up, stopping mid-stride. For several long, excruciating seconds, they just stared. Veronica noted, with dismay, his usually expressive brown eyes were cold, dispassionate.

“Well, look who’s back,” he said, finally breaking the silence. The bitterness in his voice reignited her temper.

“Cut the crap, Logan. I just met your new friend. _Wow_. Three cheers for you – she’s … beautiful,” she said, choking on the word. “Not your usual type, but then again, buxom brunettes always were your downfall.”

Something flickered in his eyes, but they quickly hardened again. “You must mean Aubrey,” he said, moving into the galley kitchen, where he opened the fridge and took out a bottle of water.

“He knows her _name_ , ladies and gentlemen. It must be _serious_ ,” she mocked, crossing her arms as she glared at him across the kitchen island. “Aubrey, huh? Yeah, that must be her. We didn’t exactly exchange pleasantries, what with her being naked and all. But, I’m happy for you, Logan. Really, I am. I’m just glad you weren’t lonely while I was away.”

Veronica jumped as Logan slammed his hand down onto the granite counter, his temper exploding.

“While you were ‘ _away_ ’? _Fuck you_ , Veronica!” he shouted. “You took off without so much as a ‘goodbye, it was nice knowing you.’ One minute we’re planning a trip to Europe, and the next you’re running off to Australia to find your long lost love. Yeah, that’s right. I figured it out.”

Furious, Veronica knew in an instant what he’d done. “ _You searched my room?_ Who the _hell_ do you think you are? _You had no right!_ ”

“Spare me the self-righteous indignation. I did exactly what you would’ve done, and you damn well _know_ it! I followed the clues. Or, I guess, in this case, the _postcards_ ,” Logan hissed, looming over her. He straightened and looked away, taking a deep breath as he braced his hands on the counter. “Look, I don’t want to fight … You tried to tell me before you left, and I just didn’t get it. Well, I get it now, okay?”

He turned to face her again, angry contempt in his eyes. “But just so you know – I would’ve waited. I was so fucking in love you, I would’ve waited _forever_. But once I realized you were with Duncan, I knew it was over.”

She almost started to explain. But images of naked, bronzed flesh, and green silk flashed in her head, and she stubbornly pursed her lips. She refused to look at him as he brushed past her.

“I’ll have your stuff packed up and sent to your dad’s. Leave the key on the table when you show yourself out,” he said gruffly over his shoulder before disappearing down the hallway.

Veronica fled.

Later, all she remembered of the drive home were the hot tears blinding her.

**********

Logan stalked down the corridor, flinching as he heard the slamming of the front door. He passed by his bedroom, continuing another ten feet until he reached the office, where he sagged into a leather desk chair. Elbows propped on the armrests, he stared at the blank screen on his laptop for several minutes, until finally he leaned forward, switched it on and began to work.

A half hour later, a woman poked her head in the doorway. “Hey, Logan, I’m taking off. Thanks again for letting me use your shower.”

“No problem, Aubrey. I called a plumber. Dick’s should be fixed by tomorrow.”

“You’re a sweetheart.” She started to leave, then turned back. “Oh, by the way, there was a cute blonde looking for you a while ago. Who is she? I didn’t know you had a girlfriend.”

“No one,” Logan said, not looking up. “Just someone I used to know."


	3. Part III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veronica is pursuing a career with the FBI, but she’s having second thoughts and can’t stop thinking about Logan, who is finally building a good life for himself.

**16 months later, a few weeks before Christmas …**

Veronica walked briskly past gaily decorated storefronts, her boots splashing on the red brick sidewalk along Georgetown’s bustling M street. She bent her head to avoid the light snow flurry and tucked her chin deeper into the fleece scarf around her neck. After going a little stir-crazy in her tiny, studio apartment, she’d finally decided to brave the blustery weather and head for her favorite café.

The overhead bell jangled as she pushed open the door, sighing gratefully at the café’s warmth and comforting aroma of freshly ground coffee beans. She ordered a cup and found an empty table in the corner. Opening her laptop, she gingerly sipped the scalding beverage as she scanned her inbox for new messages.

“Logan!”

At the sound of his name, Veronica instinctively raised her head, scanning the crowded café until she spotted a smiling woman waving at someone. By the time she saw the man threading his way through the throng of customers, all she could make out was the back of his head. Bundled up against the cold weather, he wore a black stocking cap jammed so far down only the nape of his neck showed. Judging from the way he towered over his friend, he looked to be around the right height, but a bulky wool coat concealed his build.

Veronica openly stared, heart pounding, as the man bent to hug the woman. When he turned to shrug off his coat, she caught just a brief glimpse of his face, but it was all she needed. He wasn’t _her_ Logan. The breath she let out became a sigh, and she tried to stifle the unexpected wave of disappointment, even as she chastised herself for hoping it was him. _It’s been over a year. Why do you even care, anymore, Veronica?_

She turned back to her laptop and logged onto the secure FBI database, but her concentration was shot to hell. She’d thrown herself into her work almost the moment she’d arrived in D.C., barely a week after the last, devastating confrontation with Logan, and she’d yet to come up for air. She was working for the Bureau now, fulfilling the required three years of professional experience, while taking courses at Quantico before she could be considered a full-fledged special agent.

Veronica was exhausted. After months of intense training, followed by mentally and emotionally grueling work, she was beginning to doubt whether being an FBI agent was really what she wanted to do with the rest of her life. It wasn’t completely unfulfilling, but the rigid regulations, not to mention office politics and sheer bureaucracy, clashed with the way she was accustomed to handling cases as a private eye. Her talents lay in skirting around the law to figure out whodunit, while the FBI was all about following the rules of evidence and chain of command. Often, it seemed, it was more about finding evidence to build a case than getting to the truth.

But so far, she’d stuck it out. Frankly, Veronica didn’t know what she’d do instead, if the FBI thing didn’t work out. Of course, she’d very nearly lost the opportunity altogether.

The Bureau didn’t exactly take kindly to having one of its own trainees under investigation.

After discovering the naked bimbo in Logan’s room, she’d been eager to leave Neptune behind for good. She’d flown east, weeks before the internship officially began, telling her dad she needed time to settle in. A few days after her arrival, all hell broke loose.

Morris, the FBI agent who’d originally investigated baby Lilly’s kidnapping, had been out for blood and still wanted to press charges against Duncan, as well as Veronica for being an accessory. Agent Morris had sought out the one person who knew them best. When Logan refused to cooperate, she’d threatened to bring charges against him, too, going so far as to dredge up the unsolved murder of Eduardo “Thumper” Orozco. Given his many brushes with the law, Logan had been particularly vulnerable.

“There’s nothing for Logan to tell them, is there, Veronica?” Keith had asked, and even over the phone she could hear the concern in his voice. When she hadn’t immediately responded, her father had quickly hung up, calling back a half-hour later to inform her he’d hired Cliff.

“Has it really come to that already, Dad?”

“Veronica, they’re going to depose Logan next week. He’s hired one of the best attorneys in town, which could mean he’s going to make a deal. They want him to be a material witness, honey. He could testify you helped Duncan escape, and that you kept in touch with him over the years.”

The postcards could bury her – and he still had them. She’d been tempted to call him, but Cliff warned her against it, and truthfully, she didn’t think she could face Logan, not after the way things had ended between them. Ultimately, it hadn’t mattered. Logan stuck to his original story, and had even told investigators that during a private, intimate moment, Veronica had promised she knew nothing of Duncan’s whereabouts.

“He swore an oath on the Bible to tell the truth, and then lied his ass off,” Cliff told her later. “It was brilliant.”

Logan had protected her, even after their ignominious end.

Duncan maintained he’d gotten away on his own, detailing to the authorities exactly how he’d managed it. With Logan’s deposition corroborating Duncan’s version of events, Morris had no choice but to drop the investigation. So Duncan had struck a deal with the feds, getting off with a year’s probation, while Veronica escaped charges altogether. Most of the fallout had been kept very hush-hush, thanks to Jake Kane’s considerable influence. But when the story of Duncan’s return to the states hit the media a few days later, Mac had called Veronica in D.C.

“I thought it was weird when Logan called out of the blue and insisted on hiring me to wipe his laptop memory. Then, after I got there, he started burning a bunch of postcards, and said you’d understand. I just figured it was one of those charmingly cryptic Logan/Veronica things, until I saw the story in the paper,” she’d said.

Now, sitting in the café, Veronica realized it had been months since she’d last spoken to Mac, or Wallace, for that matter, and she still owed Duncan a long-overdue email. Other than her work, with which she’d become increasingly disillusioned, she didn’t have much going on in her life. Occasionally, she’d grab drinks or dinner with colleagues, and last spring, she’d hopped a train to New York, where she’d joined Parker and Mac on a girls’ getaway. She was even dating again.

Mark was perfect. A former intern himself, he was two years older than Veronica, and already one of the bureau’s rising young stars. Better yet, he was everything Logan wasn’t – focused, ambitious, driven even. And completely baggage free. Nothing appeared to bother him. Unlike Logan’s dark, brooding moods, Mark handled all life’s difficulties with a shrug and a grin.

But her still-fledgling relationship only highlighted Veronica’s loneliness.

Not wanting to appear slutty, she’d waited until their third date before letting him into her bed. By then, she and Logan had been broken up for over a year and it had been even longer since the last time she’d had actual sex … with a man. Months before, Veronica had been reduced to buying a vibrator online. But each time she closed her eyes and slipped the buzzing toy between her thighs, it was always the image of Logan’s face, or memory of his touch, that pushed her over the edge.

Logan was out of her life and _damn it_ , she wanted him out of her masturbatory fantasies, too. So when her charming, drop-dead-gorgeous co-worker suddenly kissed her one night, after drinks and crab cakes at Capitol City Brewery, Veronica had allowed herself to get swept up into a new romance. A few weeks later, after they’d dined at an intimate, French bistro, she’d invited him up to her apartment, where they’d tumbled onto her bed seconds after bursting through the front door.

The first time, she failed to have an orgasm, but she’d merely chalked it up to her own inexperience. After all, she’d only had two other lovers, and maybe Logan was unusually attentive. He’d always been so attuned to her every need and desire, she seldom had to tell him what she wanted. Plus, she’d read on the cover of Cosmo, women frequently had difficulty coming. But she was a little put off by the way Mark had immediately rolled away afterwards, giving her a quick, perfunctory kiss, apologizing for having to be at the office early the next day.

The second time, she’d tried to murmur directions in his ear as he thrust above her, but he’d been too preoccupied to hear her. Moments later, just as she was beginning to feel faint stirrings of an orgasm, Mark had announced he was coming with cries so loud she’d hoped her neighbors couldn’t hear.

With Logan, she’d always been too overwhelmed by passion to worry about being discreet.

Mark had eventually managed to make her come, and she was so relieved to find she wasn’t broken after all, she’d laughed out loud. He’d apparently been completely unaware there’d been a problem to begin with. “Really?” he’d asked mildly. “No one’s complained before. Maybe you’re just a tough nut to crack.”

As soon as he left, she’d promptly called Parker to get another woman’s perspective. “Um, maybe you two just need a little more time to, you know, get your groove on,” was her friend’s diplomatic response. But the skepticism in Parker’s voice had been unmistakable.

That night, when Veronica closed her eyes, her dreams had been a _freaking_ erotic walk down memory lane. Logan coaxing her to climax in the backseat of her car, his head buried between her thighs, when she was supposed to be tracking an insurance scam artist. Or the sunny morning they spent making out against the stacks in a quiet, remote corner of the library, the time he came looking for her after a fight.

Even the first time they made love when he patiently caressed and kissed every inch of her skin in the flickering candlelight, surrendering complete control to her until her fears evaporated – made its way into her sleep-induced, sexual reminiscing.

By the time she’d woken the next morning, lying flushed among the twisted sheets, she knew her plan to exorcise Logan from her heart had completely backfired. He was not only playing a starring role in her sex dreams, but now she found herself turning at the sound of his name, hoping he’d somehow stumbled his way into her café.

A flash of some woman’s pale green, silk blouse was a sobering reminder of why Veronica never wanted to see her cheating ex again. _Logan was incapable of keeping his dick in his pants._

Angrily, she stabbed the mouse pad on her laptop, determined to get some work done. She opened a document on her hard drive and began reading. It was the case file for a three-year-old unsolved disappearance of a young boy in California. One of her instructors at Quantico was using it as a course study. The class had been assigned to go over the file, analyze and critique the investigation and, if possible, come up with new avenues to explore. She’d turned in her report the week before, but something about the case nagged at her, so she was doing some digging on her own time.

Twelve-year-old Stephen Forbes had vanished from his home in Los Angeles sometime between leaving school on a Friday afternoon and suppertime the following Monday. Stephen’s guardian, his 60-year-old grandmother, had been rushed to the hospital the day he disappeared, and it wasn’t until she was released, three days later, that she discovered he was nowhere to be found. With no leads, no witnesses or suspects, local police let the case languish, in part because Stephen had been a troubled kid who’d run away from home in the past. It came to the FBI’s attention only after evidence surfaced to indicate Stephen had been transported over state lines into Arizona.

The initial investigators had done a slipshod job. Only two neighbors, who lived several houses down the street, had been interviewed, and no one had bothered to track down the whereabouts of Stephen’s parents. Detectives had gone to the boy’s school and visited briefly with the principal, but failed to speak to his teachers, or any adult who’d had direct contact with him, other than his elderly grandmother. A year-and-a-half later, when the FBI caught the case, it had gone stone cold except for an anonymous call-in tip saying he was in Phoenix.

It had been a cake assignment, and her analysis took less than two hours to complete. Veronica’s involvement should’ve ended there. But, as she studied his seventh-grade school picture, she noticed despite his reluctant, surly smile, and defiant chin tilt, Stephen’s large, brown eyes held a deep sadness. Driven by some unknown compulsion, she’d already spent hours cross-referencing every relevant database available, but continued to come up empty.

Only yesterday, she’d even snuck a peek at the full case file, but nothing stood out. Chewing her lip in frustration, she clicked on an online database of searchable newspaper and magazine articles, as well as public documents. After getting some 500 plus hits, she narrowed her search until the results whittled down to less than a hundred. She quickly glanced down the list, and her interest was suddenly piqued by a tiny news brief, which had originally appeared in the Arizona Daily Republic the previous year.

"The badly decomposed body of a 17-year-old boy discovered in a downtown alley has been identified as Christian Baxter, a runaway from California, according to the county coroner. An autopsy revealed the cause of death was a cocaine overdose, authorities said. Baxter, a foster child, was reported missing by a teacher two years ago."

There was a big gap in age between the two boys, but the fact they were both from California, and had last been seen in Arizona was curious. She tried another search for Christian Baxter, but nothing new came up. She closed her laptop, and grabbing her bag, stood to leave.

When she got to FBI headquarters a little while later, the building was all but deserted since it was Saturday. She slipped into a cubicle, logged on and, after finding what she needed, dialed a number in L.A. It rang a few times before a man answered, identifying himself as Detective Lewis.

“Detective, this is Special Agent … Drew with the FBI in Phoenix. I got stuck doing some follow up work on the Stephen Forbes case, and I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions. Do you have a minute?”

“…The Stephen Forbes case … Oh, yeah, right. How can I help?”

“Did you ever come across the name Christian Baxter? He was another runaway who ended up dead in Arizona.”

There was a pause. She heard papers shuffling, as if he was looking through his notes. “Um, nope. Name doesn’t sound familiar,” Lewis said.

“Are you sure? He was a foster child, his teacher is the one who reported him missing.”

“No. Doesn’t ring any bells, although Forbes was a foster kid.”

“…I thought he was living with his grandmother?” Veronica said.

“She was a friend of the kid’s stepfather. When Stephen’s mom split, the stepdad got the old lady to step in as guardian so they could get a check from Child Protective Services every month. We tried to talk to the social worker, but we kept missing her. Then you guys took over.”

She thanked Detective Lewis for his help and hung up after getting the social worker’s name and phone number. Suddenly, the boys had three things in common and that was one too many coincidences for Veronica. The following Monday, as everyone was filing out of the conference room after the regular staff meeting, she presented her discovery to her superior, Special Agent Chuck Fineman.

“It’s a lot of legwork. We’d have to check for runaways and missing kids who were also in the foster care system, and follow up on whoever matches, but I think it’s doable,” she finished, glancing at Mark, who was standing nearby, avoiding her gaze.

Fineman turned to her, a scowl on his face. “Who authorized you to look into this, Mars?”

“No one, per se. It was a class assignment and I just kept digging.”

“So what you’re telling me is, you got an ‘A’ in class, and now you want me to launch an investigation and spend hundreds of hours chasing what is, at best, a tenuous connection?”

“I’m not asking you to involve the entire FBI. I just want to look into this on my own. I – I have a hunch.”

“You have a hunch. You mean like women’s intuition?” Fineman scoffed, prompting a snort from Mark. “The answer is no, Mars. Now get back to your filing, or whatever the hell you’re supposed to be doing.”

 _Chauvinistic prig_. Veronica pursed her lips as she watched him swagger out of the room. “Thanks for having my back in there,” she hissed at Mark.

“I’m sorry. You’re right, I should’ve backed you up. But is it really a good idea to get on Fineman’s bad side? Over some punk, runaway kid? I’ve got news for you, Vee, finding runaway teens won’t exactly get you noticed by the head honchos.”

“Funny, I thought I was trying to save a boy’s life – not boost my career. And don’t call me that.” She knew she was being pissy, but didn’t care. Lately, she’d noticed Mark treated everything in the same cool, detached, easy-going way. Whether it was the grueling regimen of casework and Quantico classes, or the disagreements that popped up between them, nothing ever fazed him.

Too late, Veronica realized Mark was different from Logan in one other important aspect – he had no heart.

Wondering what the hell she was doing with him, she cancelled their date and, instead, joined two classmates for dinner and drinks at a nearby eatery. Rashmi and Michaela were the only other women in Veronica’s intern class, and they’d gotten together a handful of times to commiserate over working in a field dominated by men.

But tonight’s male-bashing took on an entirely different slant. “We broke up,” Michaela lamented, her words slurring faintly after her third glass of wine. “Just par for the course, I guess. It’s been years since I’ve had a decent relationship and I’m so ready to fall in love again. I want passion, someone who really gets me. The next time I fall in love, it’s gotta be amazing, something …”

“… Epic.” Veronica was startled to realize she’d been the one to speak, and quickly decided she’d better lay off the sangria.

Rashmi gave her an amused, quizzical glance. “How do you mean?”

Flushing, Veronica shrugged. “Oh, you know … spanning years, and continents.” She reached for a breadstick, hoping to quell the flow of words. _Where the hell had that come from?_

“Epic! That’s exactly it,” Michaela exclaimed, sloshing her wine.

For the next few days, Veronica avoided Mark. Still miffed, she didn’t feel up to faking pleasantries, let alone orgasms. She softened, however, when she came to work one morning and found a dozen red roses on her desk. A little cheesy and over the top, but the gesture was certainly appreciated. Grinning, she flipped open her cell. “Glad to hear you liked the flowers,” he said easily. “You free later? How does shrimp scampi at my place sound?”

That night, Mark made a startling proposition over dinner. “We should move in together. We both live in fleabag studios. I bet, if we pooled our resources, we could get a pretty sweet pad. I know it’s a little soon, but we wouldn’t be living together as much as sharing expenses. You know, like roomies.”

She remembered when Logan asked her to move in with him, he’d been more interested in sharing a life than splitting bills. Mark’s overture suddenly made everything all too clear. Veronica turned him down flat and broke up with him.

A week later, she was on the verge of making another major decision, but couldn’t quite bring herself to tell her father. It was four days before Christmas, and he was scheduled to arrive on the 24th for a long visit. Figuring she could broach the subject then, she headed out to do some last minute shopping. Wallace called while she was browsing the true crime section at Barnes & Noble, searching for a gift for Keith.

“Hey Vee, Mac told me you broke up with the G-man. You okay?”

Realizing she missed Mark not at all, she chuckled and cheerfully greeted her friend. “Puhleez. Talk about wolf in sheep’s clothing. I’m sooo over it. What’s up with you, Fennel? You still dating that girl you met at the gym?”

They spent the next half hour catching up, as she picked out a book for her dad and began making her way to a kitschy antique store where she hoped to find something funky for Mac. After she promised to call more often, they hung up. Several hours and a few hundred dollars later, she was done with her shopping.

Back at her apartment, she looked around vainly for a place to stash her purchases, deciding on a small closet where she stored linens and other odds and ends. She opened the door and scanned its dim interior, her eyes falling on a box she’d shoved deep into a corner more than a year ago.

Two days after Veronica had moved in, she’d received a large package from her father. True to his word, Logan had packed her belongings and sent them to Keith, who’d simply slapped on a new label, forwarding it to her place in D.C. The box had lain on her closet floor, unopened, ever since.

Now, she dragged it out, and after slicing through the sturdy tape with a pair of scissors, ripped open the lid. She was surprised to see how much she’d left behind. Her favorite black lace bra and matching panties, the Hearst sweats she’d kept around for when he cranked up the A/C, a Postal Service CD, books, a pair of diamond earrings he’d given her for her 21st birthday, some photos, more clothes, a large makeup bag and a black lace nightgown that never failed to make his eyes darken with lust whenever she’d worn it.

Kneeling on the floor with the evidence of their four years together spread out around her, Veronica reached for the makeup bag and unzipped it. She turned it upside down, dumping its contents onto the carpet. A cream-colored envelope fell out. She frowned as she picked it up.

Her name was scrawled on the front in Logan’s barely legible handwriting, and all at once, she remembered. The morning of their commencement ceremony, he’d slipped a card in her hand in lieu of a graduation gift, and she’d tucked it into her bag, forgetting all about it until now. With trembling hands, she peeled open the sealed envelope, and withdrew a vintage, sepia-toned postcard of the Eiffel Tower.

_Here’s hoping we’ll always have Paris. But even if we don’t, I’ll always love you._

_– Logan_

When the words blurred, Veronica realized she was crying. Even after all this time and despite everything she’d done to excise him from her life, she missed Logan horribly. It wasn’t just the sex. She ached to curl up next to him, lay her head against his chest and poke holes in his sardonic musings. Furious at herself, she swiped away tears with the back of her hand. _After pledging his undying love, how long had he waited to fuck some other girl?_

She started tossing things back in the box, closing the flaps and cramming it viciously back into the closet. Still clutching the postcard, Veronica wondered what would be more satisfying – tearing it to shreds, or watching it burn. Then she paused, remembering Logan had burned hers.

He said he would’ve waited forever … But she’d lied to him about Duncan, just like she’d lied about her plans for the future. Suddenly, she could see the long string of little fibs she’d told, and choices she’d made, that ultimately kept him at a safe distance, even during their most intimate moments.

Logan had betrayed her and broken her heart. But she’d betrayed him first.

Veronica fished her phone from her bag and dialed. She had no idea what she was doing, and for once she didn’t care. “Dad? I hope that ticket is refundable ‘cause you have to cancel your trip. I’m coming home.”

**********

Logan burst through the ocean surface, shaking water from his face and hair as he inhaled, filling his lungs with oxygen. He gained purchase on the rocky floor and trudged to shore, shivering slightly in the cool, December air. When he reached the steps leading to his back patio, he rinsed off the sand and salt water using a hose, then wrapped a towel around his shoulders as he headed inside.

It was still early, and the condo was quiet. These days, he was usually in bed long before Dick stumbled home from whatever party he’d been at, so he couldn’t be sure if Dick and his girlfriend were sleeping in, or at her place. Logan decided to savor the morning solitude and poured himself a cup of coffee, sitting down at the kitchen island to read the paper.

A story on the bottom corner of the front page immediately caught his eye: Kane Heir Returns to Neptune. After several years of letting others handle the day-to-day operations, Jake Kane had apparently decided to reclaim control of his company, starting with a triumphant homecoming, escorted by the son he was grooming to be his successor. The article was accompanied by a grainy photo of Jake disembarking from the company jet alongside Duncan, who was carrying a slumbering little girl with wispy, blond curls.

From his attorney, Logan knew Duncan had been living in Napa since his return. But now, more than a year later, he’d yet to receive so much as an email from his former best friend. Not that he expected to, given the whole Veronica situation. They’d barely managed to salvage their friendship before, back when they were teenagers. Logan doubted he and Duncan could work past it again.

Life was good – sort of. Ever since Yosemite, Charlie had been working steadily to pull Logan deeper into his scheme to educate every disadvantaged, hormonally-charged pre-teen in Neptune. Charlie had ruthlessly played the half-brother card, cajoling him into volunteering three times a week at his summer camp, and later, at an after-school program, until finally, Logan reluctantly admitted he enjoyed the work. The next thing he knew, Charlie was online, registering Logan for an upcoming exam to get his emergency teaching credentials.

“Whoa, wait. Why do I need this?”

“There’s a job at my school you’d be perfect for,” Charlie had answered, already typing in Logan’s name, birth date and social security number. “It’s just two classes - journalism and yearbook - so it’s only part-time. The pay sucks, but it’s not like you need the money, anyway.”

Logan had ended up spending his entire first month’s paycheck on better computers and new, digital cameras for the hole-in-the-wall classroom he was given. The work was satisfying, and it gave him a certain peace to know that, even when tested by the worst knucklehead in his class, he’d never once felt the slightest urge to lash out with so much as a hard pinch. He hoped Aaron was spinning in his grave.

But Logan was lonely. After the last, big blow-up with Veronica, he’d engaged in a couple brief flings and one-night stands that left him feeling even more depressed than when they’d started. One morning, he’d woken to find wavy, golden tresses splayed across the pillow next to him, and for one, heart-stopping moment, he thought Veronica had come back.

Afterwards, he’d sworn off the opposite sex. Only recently, he’d been wondering whether he should consider dipping his toes in the dating pool again, when a pretty, young barista at his regular cafe abruptly made the decision for him.

“Are you gay?”

Logan’s eyebrows had shot up as he stared into a pair of animated, black eyes, his waiting hand still outstretched across the counter. “If I say no, I still get my coffee, right?”

“Damn.” Full, unadorned lips had twisted in a self-deprecating grin as she held out his java to go. “I’ve been flirting with you for weeks, and you haven’t nibbled once. I know you’re single – I had you checked out. So you’re either: A) not interested, or B) gay. My ego was really hoping for option B.”

Logan had surprised himself by smiling back sheepishly. “What about C? Totally clueless?”

“Please,” she’d said, rolling her eyes. “You’re a man. Clueless is a given.”

Her name was Miya – short of Miyako - and she was a grad student in English Lit at Hearst, as well as a movie junkie. They’d gone on their first date just the other night. After a showing of “The Painted Veil” at an art house movie theater near San Diego’s Gaslamp district, they’d sat for hours in a jam-packed Sushi Deli, dissecting the liberties the film took with W. Somerset Maugham’s haunting story of infidelity and unrequited love.

“Yeah, sure they changed some things, but in my opinion, there’s a difference between reading something in a book and watching it on screen. And the cinematography was breathtaking, don’t you think?” Miya had said as she daintily dipped a piece of tekka maki into a murky solution of soy sauce and wasabi.

“Besides, Ed Norton is totally hot,” she’d grinned.

The normalcy of it all hadn’t been lost on Logan. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone on an actual date that didn’t involve an all-night stakeout, or at the very least, a side trip to sneak a peek at someone’s classified file.

He must’ve gotten really rusty over the past year, though, because Miya’s alleged flirtations had never even registered on his radar. Remembering her intelligent, lively eyes and quick, easy smile he couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed her before. Their date had ended at her door, with a chaste, sweet kiss on the lips and a promise to call, which he had every intention of keeping.

But now, seeing Duncan staring at him from his morning paper, stirred up memories Logan had spent the last year trying to bury. Bitterly, he wondered if this latest news meant Veronica would be coming home, too. With a flick of the wrist, he flung the newspaper into the recycling bin, vowing to ignore the frenzy over the return of the Kanes.

He swallowed the last of his coffee and got ready for work. With winter break just days away, his schedule was relatively light, and after school he hoped to squeeze in a little surfing with Charlie. He coasted through his classes, helping students critique the latest issue of the Oceanside Current and brainstorm story ideas for the next one.

“I think we should do a story on how to add more friends to your myspace page,” Lisa proposed, twirling one strawberry blond ringlet and smacking her gum.

Logan opened his mouth to explain why a how-to guide on boosting one’s online popularity wasn’t newsworthy, when a kid in the back of the class snorted with derision. “You mean, like, how to get stalked by a pervert in cyberspace? Or be a virtual sl…”

“Sean! Knock it off.” Logan was quick to step in. He’d learned the hard way to nip these little outbursts in the bud, or the class would spiral out of control. Although, the boy did have a point.

Twelve-year-old Sean Delgado had transferred into his newspaper class from some school in east L.A. shortly after the fall semester started. Even taking into account the seventh-grader’s raging hormones, Sean was a sullen, surly kid. Openly hostile and defiant one day, the rail-thin boy would suddenly do an about face, becoming skittish and listless. He was also a total smartass, constantly forcing Logan to run interference.

“What? I’m just saying …” Sean muttered, slumping into the chair as he tugged on his long shirt sleeves. “It’s a stupid idea.”

“Enough. One more remark and you’re going to the vice principal’s office.” The rest of hour passed without incident and when the final bell rang, Logan resisted the urge to hurry the kids out the door. He started to clear his desk when he saw a small figure, silently working at a computer station in the far corner of the room. “Sean, what are you still doing here? School’s out.”

“Just checking out some newspapers online. I can stay, right?”

“Sure, but only for a few more minutes, okay?” Logan peeked over his student’s shoulder, noting he was scrolling through a list of articles on an Arizona newspaper’s web site. It seemed harmless enough, so Logan took his time shutting down the other computers. He was throwing a bunch of papers into his bag when Charlie came in, prompting Sean to suddenly jump up and scuttle away, mumbling goodbye as he left.

Charlie arched a questioning brow and Logan shrugged. “I just stopped by to let you know I can’t go surfing after all. Annie’s got me down for some wedding errand. I’m really wishing we’d just gotten hitched in Vegas.”

“Picking china patterns?”

“Worse. Auditioning bands. Take it from me – elope.”

Logan grimaced, turning to lock the classroom door. “Yeah, that’s not gonna be an issue for me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.”

Charlie studied Logan for a moment as they walked towards the parking lot. “Did you see the story about Duncan Kane coming back to Neptune? You’re gonna call him, right?”

Logan scoffed and started to shake his head, until he glanced over at Charlie. If it hadn’t been for Veronica’s gentle prodding, he might never have known his brother. Maybe it’s time to make amends with Duncan, too, he thought. As Charlie’s Prius pulled away from the school, Logan dug out his cell and dialed.

“Kane Software, how may I help you?” a woman’s nasally voice answered.

“Jake Kane please.”

A half hour later, Logan stood in front of a gleaming glass and steel mansion, finger poised over the doorbell. He turned as a high-pitched squeal rang out, and Duncan emerged from around the corner, his arms full with a squirming, giggling little girl.

Duncan had thinned since high school, his baby face good looks giving way to more mature, chiseled features – the perfect picture of a handsome American prince. Logan also couldn’t miss the unmistakable happiness shining in his old friend’s eyes as he laughed with his daughter.

He cleared his throat and Duncan looked up, stopping in surprise. ‘Hey, D.K.” Logan smiled, shifting nervously as he gave a tentative wave with one hand, the other shoved into his jeans pocket.

“Logan! Oh my God … It’s good to see you man,” Duncan bent to let Lilly down, and stepping forward, embraced him. “You’re a sight for sore eyes, dude. It’s been non-stop corporate kiss-ups and simpering Neptune socialites from the moment we got back. You’re the first real friend I’ve seen.”

And just like that, five years of estrangement vanished. “Uh, yeah. I read you were back to take over the family business. I thought I should stop by and say hello. Your dad gave me your address … I was gonna call first, but …”

“…No, I’m glad you came by - really glad, Logan. I should’ve called you a long time ago, but this past year has just been crazy. Between the lawyers and the feds, I was tempted to go on the lam again,” Duncan made his way to the front door and fit his key in the lock, Lilly clinging to his leg, peering shyly at this strange, new man. “Come in. You can stay a while, can’t you?”

Once inside, Duncan introduced him to his daughter. The child’s hair was caught up in two, lopsided pigtails - obviously her father’s handiwork – and she gazed up at Logan with large, round blue eyes fringed with thick, blond lashes. She was the spitting image of Duncan.

Logan bent at the waist, offering his hand. “Hey there, Lillypad. What’s happening?” He caught a glimpse of a tiny smile, before Lilly ducked behind her father’s leg again, then scampered away.

“She’s bashful,” Duncan explained, smiling affectionately as she pulled out some toys and spread them out on the living room carpet.

“So she’s nothing like her namesake, I take it. Lucky you dodged that bullet.”

“Tell me about it,” Duncan said, laughing. He offered Logan a drink and for the next hour the two friends sat in the living room, watching Lilly play and catching up on each other’s lives.

They carefully skirted the subject of Veronica until finally, Logan spoke up. “Listen, I’m sure you know, Veronica and I … we didn’t exactly end on a high note. Could you just tell her I said there’s no hard feelings? I hope you two are happy together. I mean it, D.K. I really wish you both the best.”

Duncan raised his eyebrows, obviously perplexed. “Uh, Logan, Veronica and I – we aren’t together. I haven’t seen her in over a year. Not since my dad had her track me down.”

Stunned, Logan sat back against the plush couch, at a loss for words. Duncan watched him closely for several, long moments, before adding, “We email, and I’ve talked to her on the phone a couple of times. She’s in D.C., working for the FBI.”

Logan gave a small chuckle, staring at the drink in his hand. “So now it’s legal for her to tap people’s phones and wander the streets catching criminals? She must be loving that. I should watch my back.”

“Actually … I don’t think she’s very happy. She’d never say it, but I think she’s lonely.” Duncan paused, then continued when Logan didn’t respond. “She’d probably love to hear from you. You should give her a call.”

“I’m sure she’d rather have an anvil dropped on her head. Like I said, we didn’t part on the best of terms.” Logan shrugged. “It doesn’t matter anyway.”

“‘Cause she’s in the rearview mirror, right?”

Logan glanced sharply at his childhood friend, who grinned back knowingly.

“I didn’t believe you back then, either,” Duncan said.

Opening his mouth to protest, Logan laughed instead at the comfortable familiarity. “I’ve missed you, D.K.”

“Yeah, me too.”

By the time Logan left, it was dark outside. Lilly had been put to bed after a dinner of pizza and soda. They made plans to go surfing the following weekend and, as he drove home, Logan reminded himself to invite Charlie.

It had been a long day with lots of surprises, so after sharing a couple beers with Dick, he called it a night. Tomorrow was Friday, and he had to be up early. He was taking the kids on a field trip to the beach for a little photography lesson.

**********

Veronica gradually woke to squawking gulls and the rhythmic pounding of the surf, smiling at the familiar sounds as she stretched. She was happy to be home.

With only four days ‘til Christmas, all of the flights out of Dulles had been booked. After nearly 18 agonizing hours hanging out at the airport, she’d finally gotten a stand-by flight. Her plane had touched down in the wee hours of the morning, so after greeting Backup, she’d flopped onto her old bed and immediately passed out.

She’d only gotten a few hours of sleep, but her inner clock was totally screwy and she was wide awake. Deciding she needed coffee, she threw back the bedcovers and padded into the kitchen.

“Good morning, daughter of mine,” her dad said from the kitchen counter where he was just finishing breakfast. “Eggs are on the stove, if you’re hungry.”

“Thanks, Dad.” She made a plate and poured herself a cup of coffee before sitting down across from Keith.

“So what are your plans for today, kiddo?”

“Oh, I dunno. Polish my shiny, special agent badge, maybe clean my gun. Oh. Wait. I quit before the FBI issued them to me. Darn!” Veronica said cheekily, sobering under her dad’s worried gaze. “Actually, I was planning to call … a friend.”

“Veronica, are you okay? You haven’t sounded like yourself lately.”

“I’m fine, Dad. Better, now that I’m home … I wanted to stick it out, but I wasn’t happy there. I just … I hope I haven’t let you down.”

Keith reached out to cup his daughter’s cheek. “Honey, believe me, you could never let me down. Never. All I want is for you to be happy.”

Blinking back tears, she slipped off her chair and wrapped her arms around Keith. “I love you, Dad,” she said, her voice muffled.

“I love you, too, sweetheart.” He drew back and kissed her forehead. “So, you’re free tonight, right? There’s this fundraiser thing I have to go to for some new community center. It’s supposed to be a pretty snazzy party, and it’s at the yacht club, so the food’ll be good. Whad’ya say?”

“I don’t know, Dad. Fancy fundraisers aren’t exactly my thing,” Veronica answered, wrinkling her nose.

“Yeah, well, they’re not my thing, either, but Olga insists I go for ‘appearances sake.’ Come on. Take one for the team. I need someone to run interference for me.”

“Can’t handle all the rich divorcees, huh?”

“I’d rather hang out with criminals.”

She chuckled, giving in. “Okay! You wore me down. I’ll go.”

“Thanks, sweetie. It starts at six, oh, and it’s black-tie so, you know, wear something nice.”

Keith left for work and, after she finished a second cup of coffee, Veronica grabbed Backup’s leash, deciding a walk would help her come up with a game plan for the day. They were about halfway down the beach when she spotted a familiar figure, his tall frame standing out in the crowd even as he bent his head to talk to someone. Heart pounding, she walked closer.

Logan was surrounded by a group of chattering kids, who couldn’t have been older than twelve or thirteen. He was holding a camera, calmly explaining how to adjust the shutter speed for action shots, or when there wasn’t enough light.

“Why can’t we just use the auto button?” one boy huffed. “You know, point and click?”

“Because then you wouldn’t learn anything, Sean,” Logan answered with a slightly annoyed sigh.

“Mr. Echolls, how do I get the pictures to show up on the little screen?”

“Yo, Mr. E., how come mine’s all fuzzy?”

She watched, amazed, as he patiently answered their questions before setting them loose. Veronica couldn’t take her eyes off him. He looked relaxed, happy and she almost turned and fled, panicked he’d reject her. But she hadn’t flown 3,000 miles to back down now.

“Logan,” she called softly, taking a step closer.

He turned at the sound of his name, his eyes widening in surprise. For several moments, he just gaped at her. “Veronica … Wow… I – I didn’t know you were home,” he said, finally managing to stammer out a greeting.

“I just got in last night. It was … an unplanned trip.” She paused, smiling nervously. “It’s really good to see you, Logan. I was going to call, but since you’re here …” Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed one of the girls snapping a shot of a surfer in the distance, and suddenly overcome by curiosity, Veronica blurted, “Why are you here? On the beach, I mean, with a bunch of teenagers?”

Logan ducked his head, glancing over at the kids. “Charlie got me a job teaching at his school.” Seeing her face, he quickly added, “They didn’t give me any of the important subjects - just newspaper and yearbook – so my ability to warp young minds is limited.”

She laughed, looking at him with new admiration. “That’s great. They seem to like you.”

“Shocker, huh? So how have you been, Veronica? Or is it Special Agent Mars?” he teased.

“Oh, I’m not a full-fledged agent … Actually, I don’t think it’ll be happening for me at all. The FBI thing didn’t turn out the way I’d hoped. I’m sort of at loose ends right now, trying to decide what I want to do with my life.”

Logan nodded, considering her for a moment. “You’ll figure it out. After all, you’re Veronica Mars,” he said, leaning his head closer to hers. “Girl Detective.”

When he smiled and reached out to give her shoulder an encouraging squeeze, Veronica remembered why she’d always loved Logan, and probably always would. She grinned back and took a deep breath. _It was now or never._

“I’m glad I ran into you, Logan. I was hoping we could talk. Are you busy tonight? Maybe we could get dinner later …?” She was interrupted by a girl on the beach, screaming Logan’s name, after apparently dropping her backpack into the swirling water.

“Shit. I hope the camera wasn’t in there.” He started towards the ocean’s edge, turning to walk backwards as he squinted in the sun at Veronica. “I gotta go, but could I take a raincheck? I’ve got this benefit thing Charlie’s throwing over at the yacht club…”

“…The one for the community center?”

“How…? Oh right, your dad’s on the guest list - you going?”

“Yeah, thanks for reminding me. I totally forgot I promised to be his ‘plus one.’”

“Well, then I guess I’ll see you there.” Flashing a smile, he turned to go. Veronica watched as he trekked through the sand. After a few moments, he looked back, giving her a little wave over his shoulder. She smiled and held her hand up before whistling for Backup and heading home.

She spent the rest of the day shopping for a dress guaranteed to make Logan drool. Beautiful women were always buzzing around him like bees to honey and she was determined to be the queen bee. The price tag on the red satin number made her gulp, but she plunked down her credit card anyway.

Later that evening, when she studied her image in the mirror, she decided the dress had been worth every penny. The shimmery material clung to her body, accentuating all the right curves, its short skirt showing off shapely legs. But it was the deep, cowl neckline, dipping almost to her navel, that was bound to turn his head.

She slipped carefully into her shoes, instantly adding three inches to her height. Last year, when she’d bought the strappy stilettos at a pricey New York boutique, she could’ve sworn she heard Lilly’s voice crooning her approval. “Now _those_ are what I call ‘fuck me heels.’ The question is, Veronica Mars, who do you wanna fuck?” She’d never worn them, and often regretted the foolish impulse buy – until now.

She felt impossibly sexy and wanton, which was exactly the look she was going for. Satisfied, she opened her door and stepped into the living room where her dad was waiting. Keith took one look at his daughter and arched an eyebrow. “So, I guess you know Logan’s going to be there,” he commented dryly.

“Isn’t that why you invited me to this fancy shindig?”

“Honey, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, sure, Dad,” she said, smiling as she kissed his cheek.

When they got to the yacht club, Keith signed them in at the reception table while Veronica followed the laughing voices and clattering glasses. The main ballroom was ablaze with flickering candles and white Christmas lights, and everything was a blur of black tuxedos and bejeweled women. She was scouring the banquet hall, searching for Logan, when she heard a warm voice behind her.

“Looking for someone?”

She whirled around and there he was. Dressed in a winter white tux that set off his golden tan and rich, intense eyes, Logan was positively mouthwatering. She gulped, suddenly flustered.

“Um, no. I mean, yeah, sort of,” she sputtered.

He raised his eyebrows, giving her a slight, questioning look. “Well, I saw him check in, so he’s around somewhere.”

“…Who is?”

“Duncan. He’s the one you’re looking for, right?”

She shook her head. “No, I … didn’t even know he’d be here. I was looking for you, actually.”

“Oh. I guess you found me, then.”

“Technically, you found me.”

They stared, unable to look away as they grinned at each other like two, awkward teenyboppers. She tried to think of something clever to say, but for once, her wit failed her. Instead she opened her mouth to tell him how handsome he looked, but a polite cough stopped her.

“Am I interrupting something?”

They turned to see Duncan hovering a few feet away, his mouth stretched into a wide, knowing grin as he gave them an amused once over. He walked over, thumping Logan on the back before bending to hug Veronica. Planting a quick kiss on her cheek, he whispered, “She shoots, and scores.”

Cheeks burning, Veronica swatted his shoulder. _First Dad, now Duncan - when did I become so transparent?_ She glanced hastily at Logan, who was watching her with a faint, bemused smile.

“I think my lamebrain friend was just about to tell you how gorgeous you look tonight, Veronica,” Duncan said. But the comrade in question said nothing, just rolled his eyes good-naturedly and looked away.

“Somehow, I doubt Logan needs a wingman,” Veronica cut in. “ _You_ , on the other hand? When was the last time you went on a date?”

“Hey, I’ll have you know, I’ve got a play date lined up for next week.”

“A _play date_ , D.K.?” Logan hooted. “If by ‘play’ you mean something kinky, sign me up. But if it involves you bringing Lillypad to some sandbox, it doesn’t count.”

“Very funny. We’re meeting at a park near the pier. It’s got a great jungle gym.”

“So what you’re saying is, your date’s adventurous – a risk taker. I had no idea you were into that kind of thing.”

“Dude, you’re twisted.”

Logan’s boyish smirk prompted a giggle from Veronica, who felt suddenly light-hearted. A waitress carrying a tray of champagne passed by and he grabbed some flutes, handing one to her and Duncan. They were clinking glasses in a silent toast when it struck her. This was the first time the three of them had been together like this – carefree and happy – since before Lilly died. She smiled to herself and took a long sip of champagne.

For several minutes, they chatted about Duncan’s new job at Kane Software, and how he and Lilly were gradually settling back into Neptune life. When Veronica questioned Logan about his role in the evening’s fundraiser, he told her he’d been coerced into tackling the financial end of Charlie’s plan to build a teen center on a vacant lot next to their school.

“Turns out my brother is a genius at harassing people until they do what he wants. No wonder you two hit it off,” he told her, smiling. As if on cue, a waiter walked over and announced Mr. Stone needed Mr. Echolls’ assistance at the reception table. Logan excused himself. Disappointed, Veronica sighed as she watched him leave.

He was busy for the next couple of hours, and she didn’t see him again until after dinner. Listless, she’d picked at her chicken cordon bleu and chocolate mousse until, finally, she apologized to her dad and abandoned him. She stood, grabbing her clutch purse, and began milling with the crème de la crème of Neptune society.

When she caught sight of Logan, on the other side of the room, he was standing with Charlie, talking to two women. For the first time, she noticed a resemblance between the half-siblings. Their heads were bent in deep conversation, and when Logan appeared to make some off-colored remark, she saw Charlie’s mouth twist in a familiar smirk.

As she watched, one of the women grasped Logan’s arm in a fit of hilarity. Veronica’s jaw nearly dropped when she saw the woman subtly, but unmistakably, brush her breast against him. _Okay, I can play that game, too._ Turning away, she grabbed a glass of champagne and quickly downed the fizzing alcohol, hoping to fortify herself. When she lowered the flute, however, Dick Casablancas was striding towards her.

“Well, what do you know? It’s Secret Agent Ronnie! Say, you wouldn’t be concealing any weapons under that dress, would you?”

Veronica groaned inwardly and rolled her eyes, bracing to face Logan’s chucklehead friend. “I’m not a _spy_ , Dick. I’m FBI, not CIA – or at least I was,” she corrected herself.

“Huh?”

“Never mind. So how are you, Dick? Still sneaking into sorority houses?”

“Nah, I’ve been reformed. Just kicking back, living off my trust fund. But what brings you home? Back to mess with Logan’s head - _again_?”

Exasperated, she started to tell him where he could stick his hand-cut crystal snifter, when a woman sidled up and kissed Dick full on the lips. Veronica looked away, feeling the champagne suddenly churn in her stomach.

“Hey, babe,” he leered when they broke apart. “Oh, meet Veronica Mars. She went to high school with me and Logan. Ronnie, this is my girlfriend, Aubrey.”

Veronica’s gaze sharpened as she studied the striking brunette. She stared, open mouthed, taking in the dark cloud of short, unruly curls, creamy skin and perfectly-shaped oval face.

“You’re with _Dick_?” she choked out.

“Going on two years, now,” Aubrey beamed. “Have we met?”

“But, you … I – I have to go.” She spun on her heel, the details clicking in her head as she stalked blindly past the socialites. Frantic, she craned her neck, searching the bustling banquet hall until she spotted Logan across the room and pushed her way through the crowd. As she drew closer, he glanced up, looking directly into her eyes in that uncanny way he had of always sensing when she was near. They locked gazes, and her breath hitched as she struggled to rein in her swirling emotions.

He’d been leaning against a wall next to Charlie, still talking to the fawning women. But when he saw her, he straightened, moving towards her, his brow furrowed with concern. “Veronica, what’s wrong?” he asked.

Throwing her arms around his neck, her mouth crashed onto his in a desperate, hungry kiss. He froze for a fraction of a second, then wrapped his arms wrap around her fiercely, dragging her body against his. Lips parted, and, when their tongues tangled, she tasted a hint of his bubblegum toothpaste.

Finally, breathlessly, they broke apart. Vaguely registering the curious looks and murmurs around them, she whispered, “Let’s get out of here.” Dazed, he nodded, turning her towards the exit. As he steered them through the throngs of people, she could feel the heat of his hands on her waist, instantly igniting the desire that had been building since the moment she laid eyes on him.

Once in the deserted lobby, she grasped his shirt collar and pulled him to her, eagerly seeking his mouth. “Jesus.” She smiled at his low, thick mumble as he dipped his head for another kiss. A solid wall was suddenly at her back, his mouth hot and wet on her neck, and when he leaned in, his obvious arousal pressing against her belly elicited a moan from deep in her throat.

Laughter sounded from around the corner, startling them. Logan stepped back, his breathing labored as he ran a hand through his hair, glancing towards the noise. When the party goers’ voices faded, he looked back at her and cupped her face in his hands, kissing her forehead tenderly.

“What are we doing, Veronica?”

“…I don’t know … but, I want this, Logan. I want you.”

In an instant, his mouth was slanting over hers, and she could feel his strong hands gripping her ass. He pulled her from the wall, maneuvering them towards the exit without ever breaking their kiss. As he started to lead them towards the parking lot, she reluctantly wrenched herself away. “Where are you going?”

“My place - we’ll be alone there.”

Jerking her head towards the beach, she smiled seductively. “The cabanas are closer,” she purred, watching his eyes grow round in surprise. “What? I was FBI, remember? We’re natural risk-takers.”

Logan groaned. “God, that’s so hot.” They laughed, stumbling onto the fine, white sand, stopping just long enough for her to hastily kick off her stiletto heels. When they reached the first canvas tent, they burst through the flaps, hurriedly undressing each other. Logan’s hands were everywhere, slipping past the neckline of her dress to palm one breast, even as he dragged her favorite black lace panties down her thighs.

She gasped when she felt him press first one, then two fingers inside her. Despite the long months apart, he knew exactly what drove her wild, and she mewled as he thumbed tantalizing circles on her clit. Frantic to feel his bare skin against hers, she tugged off his jacket, fingers flying over tiny, mother-of-pearl buttons before she peeled away the crisp, white tuxedo shirt.

Her hands were already on the fly of his pants, when she felt her dress loosen and slide down her body to pool at her feet. Naked, she stood before him, unabashed and fervently determined to show Logan how much she loved him. When she met his penetrating gaze, she saw lust and adoration beneath hooded lids. He bent his head, capturing her mouth as his arm snaked around her waist, walking her backwards until she felt the wooden, chaise lounge bump her calves.

He eased her down onto the cushion, quickly shucking his pants and boxers before joining her. Settling between her spread legs, he trailed kisses down her neck, along the fragile line of her collar bone. She arched back, gripping his shoulders until his mouth finally closed over a nipple. Instinctively, she wrapped her legs around his torso, feeling his hard length trapped between them as his hands splayed across her thighs, moving to cup smooth, round buttocks.

Suddenly, after months of missing him and aching for his touch, Veronica decided she couldn’t wait any longer. “Logan…please…”

“Please, what?” he taunted, his voice thick as his lips traveled down the flat plane of her stomach, planting tiny kisses as he moved lower. Her body jerked involuntarily when his rough tongue lapped at her center, wrenching a cry from her lips.

“Oh god, just … fuck me already!”

His body shook with silent laughter, and he lifted his head. But the self-satisfied smirk on his face rapidly changed to horror. “Oh jeez … I don’t have …”

“…My purse.”

As he hunted for her bag, Logan flashed her an impressed look over his shoulder. Moments later, he was back on the chaise, kneeling at the juncture of her thighs, prophylactic in hand. Her knees fell open of their own accord, and Logan was inside her, pumping deeply, driving into her until she nearly screamed. Her legs tightened around him as he continued his slow, agonizing thrusts, and she dug her heels into the small of his back, her hips writhing beneath him.

When she climaxed, her toes curled and she stifled her cries by biting down on his shoulder as her body trembled with unbearable pleasure. Logan came moments later, groaning into her hair as he collapsed above her.

After their heartbeats gradually slowed, he rolled away and grabbed his jacket, covering her. They lay spooned on chaise, Logan’s arm wrapped possessively around her middle, her butt tucked neatly against him.

Veronica was the first to break the silence. “I had an interesting chat with Dick tonight,” she said slowly. “Want to know what we talked about?”

The rumble of his low chuckle tickled the nape of her neck. “Well, I’m not wondering whether you still suck at pillow talk. But okay, I’ll bite. What scintillating conversation did you have with my BFF?”

“He introduced me to his girlfriend - _Aubrey_.”

Logan stilled and she twisted to face him, her eyes searching his. “You never slept with her, did you?”

“No,” he said, meeting her gaze. “I didn’t.”

She already knew, but hearing him confirm the truth was still a jolt to the heart. She closed her eyes, shame heating her cheeks. “I spent the last year hating you for something you didn’t even do,” she choked out, opening her eyes. “When I saw her in your room … I just assumed the worst – and you didn’t deny it. Why?”

He expelled a long breath and shrugged. “I don’t know. I was hurt, angry. I thought … you and Duncan … I guess I figured it was the fastest way to get you to leave. You were breaking up with me anyway, so it didn’t seem to matter.”

“Logan, it’s not what you think. I wasn’t _leaving you_. It was job – Jake Kane hired me. Duncan and Lilly were missing and he needed someone to find them, hopefully bring them home. I- I couldn’t say no. It was something I felt I had to do. But I was always going to come back.”

“I know that – _now_ ,” he said, turning onto his back. “But at the time … You should’ve told me what was going on. Duncan was my friend, too, I would’ve understood. Hell, I would’ve gone with you. But you just … disappeared, and all I got were these vague answers from your dad. If you had only called … even once …”

“I wanted to, believe me. I almost did, but I was trying to keep you and my dad out of the whole mess. Duncan was a fugitive and I didn’t want you getting in trouble for something I did.”

“Yeah, that plan worked out great. Agent Morris is a real peach, and she just _loved me_. I’ve gotta remember to send her a Christmas card.”

“Logan, I …”

“… It’s okay. I knew they were coming for me.”

“I hear you gave quite the deposition.”

He smirked. “Occasionally, my privileged Hollywood upbringing comes in handy.”

“You thought I was with Duncan, but you still lied to protect me,” she said, awed. “… I honestly don’t know if I could’ve handled the Duncan thing any differently, but I should’ve found a way to call you, even if it was just to tell you I was coming back. And I should’ve told you about my mother, the FBI, everything. I didn’t mean to shut you out, at least not intentionally.”

She paused, letting out a short, nervous laugh. “Wow. This is _so_ not how I planned to do this …”

“What are you talking about? Planned what?” he asked, shifting again to face her.

“… I came home to find out if there was still a chance for us. It’s not why I quit the FBI, but it’s the reason I left D.C. … I never stopped loving you, Logan,” she confessed, her voice breaking. “I came back, because I had to know if … you could love me again.”

Astonishment and wary joy flickered across Logan’s open face as he gently traced her jawline. “Loving you was never the problem, Veronica,” he said slowly. “But I don’t know if I can do this again … Things are moving a little too fast, you know? Until yesterday, I thought you were with Duncan. My brain was still trying to grasp the fact you’d been in D.C. all this time, when suddenly you appear out of nowhere … I’m finally getting my life in order. I even went on a date for the first time in a very long time…”

Veronica nodded and swung her legs over the edge, sitting up as she began searching for her clothes. She’d never felt more naked and exposed. “Of course. I – I totally understand. It’s okay, really. I can’t say I blame you. I wouldn’t forgive me, either … ”

“…I missed you.” His whispered words halted her flight. He slipped an arm around her waist and leaned forward, pressing a kiss onto her bare shoulder. “You have no idea how empty this place was without you … I’m not saying, no. I just think, maybe, we should take things slow, okay?”

Her breath caught and a small sob escaped. But Veronica was smiling when she looked over her shoulder into his beautiful, brown eyes. “Yeah. I think that would be a good idea.”

Cupping her cheek, he kissed her and they fell back onto the cushion. Several minutes later, when she came up for air, she braced a hand against his chest and pushed herself up, giggling hysterically.

“Oh my God. I can’t believe I did that.”

“Did what?” he asked, running his fingers through her hair.

“Jumped your bones! In the middle of some hoity-toity benefit with everyone watching,” she wheezed.

“Well, to be fair, you did wait until we were alone to stage the main event,” he remarked, his lips curling smugly.

“But it’s not exactly ‘taking things slow,’” she added more soberly.

Logan shrugged. “So we’ll dial it back a bit. We always did tend to do things ass-backwards. Besides, at least we gave those rich, fat cats some great fodder for their fantasies.”

A look of alarm crossed her face, and she leapt off the lounge chair. “Shit! I totally forgot about my dad. He’s probably looking for me. Where are my clothes?” Logan sat up, picking her dress and panties off the ground and handing them to her. They dressed quickly and left the cabana, his jacket draped over her shoulders.

As they strolled along the darkened beach, Logan reached down to grasp Veronica’s hand in his. “So, wait – jumping my bones wasn’t your plan for tonight?” he teased.

“Do you have any idea how much I spent on this dress?” she scoffed. “ _Of course_ it was my plan … But it was supposed to be dessert, not the hors d’oeuvres.”

“As I recall, you’re the kind of girl who eats dessert first. I knew there was a reason I liked that about you.”

She punched his arm and their mingled laughter rang out in the still night.

As they neared the cement path leading back to the club, a lone figure emerged and began walking towards them. It was her dad. Arms akimbo, he let out an exasperated sigh as he watched them trudge up the beach.

“There you are. I’ve been trying to make my getaway for the past hour. I thought you were going to keep the piranhas off me,” Keith scolded his daughter, before greeting her companion. “Hi, Logan. Good to see you again.”

Veronica winced, resisting the urge to smooth her dress and check her hair. “Sorry, Dad. I had to get some air, and I ran into Logan. We were just catching up.”

“I can give her a ride home, Mr. Mars,” Logan interjected, turning to Veronica. “I have to help wrap things up, but it shouldn’t take long. I thought, maybe we could go grab coffee somewhere, if you’re not too tired.”

She smiled, nodding. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Okay then, I guess I’ll see you back inside. I should go find Charlie, make sure he hasn’t wheedled Duncan out of his entire inheritance.” He shook hands with her dad before saying goodbye and heading up the pathway.

“Honey, is there something I should know?” Keith peered at her, amused.

“No, Dad. There’s nothing to tell. Not yet, anyway,” she answered, the smile still lingering on her lips.


	4. Part IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan & Veronica begin to rebuild their relationship when an old foe resurfaces, plunging them into another mystery.

“Do you remember our first date?”

Logan looked across the kitchen island’s granite counter where he was assembling condiments and considered Veronica’s query. It had been barely a week since her unexpected return to Neptune, and she was already becoming a fixture in his home. She’d persuaded him to take advantage of the unseasonably warm weather by firing up the expensive, virtually-unused gas grill for a barbecue. He’d bought enough food for Dick and Aubrey, too. But the thought of breaking bread with the often-sniping Dick and Veronica, prompted a hasty call to Duncan. Even if his steady, good-natured friend couldn’t broker peace, surely the angelic mini-Kane could.

Veronica ceased cutting tomatoes and looked at him expectantly. “Trick question,” he answered. “As I recall, you were a no-show for our first date.”

“Not  _ that _ one.”

“Oh.” As Logan added the tomatoes she’d already sliced to a tray of lettuce, onions and pickles, he thought back to their first summer together, when they’d been hounded by the media and paparazzi. He and Veronica had sequestered themselves in his parents’ mansion, or her apartment, only venturing out for rides to the beach or the occasional sail.

Impatient, she rolled her hand and said, “Fast forward.”

“You mean after you came back from New York? Yes, I remember picking you up for a date, but …”

“…we went on a stakeout instead.”

“Right. And you complained the Xterra was too conspicuous.”

She ignored his comment and continued prodding him down memory lane. “When we broke up freshman year, by the time we got back together, I was in the middle of investigating Dean O’Dell’s murder …”

“…and you cancelled our fancy dinner,” he finished. “See? Trick question.”

“That’s exactly my point. We’ve never really had an ‘official’ first date. I think we should, don’t you?”

“Given what happened at the yacht club, hasn’t that ship already sailed?”

“You and I both know  _ that _ doesn’t count.”

“Really? But, it’s in my blog … Best. Date.  _ Ever _ ,” he said, grinning and waggling his eyebrows. He came around to her side and leaned leaned against the counter to plant tiny kisses just below her ear.

She laughed, slugging his shoulder. “Come on. I promise it’ll be painless, and strictly casual - no strings. Just a nice dinner, a little wine, maybe a romantic stroll on the beach … any of this grabbing your fancy?”

“ _ You _ grab my fancy, Veronica.” The smile that lit her face made his dick twitch and, as their lips met, he forgot to ask what her curious “no strings” statement meant. He lost his chance when the doorbell rang, but he needn’t have worried. Over an early dinner the following night, while they were on their official “first date” at a quaint, Italian eatery near the water, she laid out a proposal that made everything terrifyingly clear.

“So I’ve been thinking about us, and I want you to know, I heard what you said about going slow and dialing back. I have a plan I think will work,” she pronounced, shortly after they were seated at a table-for-two in a quiet, intimate corner.

Logan eyed her skeptically over a dripping candle. “Should we consult the flow chart on your bulletin board, or do you have a power point presentation?”

“No,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I think we should see other people.”

“Wait. You’re dumping me on our first date? That’s a new one, even for you, Veronica.” He draped an arm over his chair and leaned back, his gaze dropping to the red-and-white checkered tablecloth.

“I’m serious. I meant what I said yesterday about ‘no strings.’ You’re free to date - and sleep with - whomever you want.” Veronica waved a hand and gave an easy shrug. “The same goes for me, of course.”

“Of course,” he intoned sarcastically, trying not to squirm.

“Not that I’ve got anyone in mind, but you mentioned a recent date. Just because I’m back, doesn’t mean your love life should come to a grinding halt, right?”

“It hasn’t.” Growing increasingly uncomfortable with the direction she was taking, it was several seconds before Logan realized his poor choice of words. “What I meant was, my love life hasn’t been  _ all that _ anyway. It was just one date …”

“…Exactly! And how will you know if you really want to be with me, if you don’t see where things go with this other girl? Look, I don’t want to trap you into a committed relationship just because we’re sleeping together. But let’s face it. The sex between us is …  _ amazing _ , and I don’t want to give that up. Do you?”

Gulping, Logan hesitated. Suddenly, he saw himself picking through a minefield, with Veronica standing on the other side holding the remote-control detonator. He shook his head slowly. “No, but …”

“…Good. So, it’s settled. We’re both free to date whomever we please, no questions asked.”

Logan snorted with laughter, almost upsetting his wine glass. “This is me you’re talking to, Veronica.  _ I know you. _ Asking questions is what you do. I’m supposed to believe you’re not gonna look through my trash, or make Mac dump my phone lines to get the scoop on who I may, or may not be schtuping on the side?”

“I swear I won’t go digging. This is one time, it’s better if I don’t know. I’ve recently come to the realization I have a nasty jealous streak … Besides, I doubt even Mac can hack into people’s phone lines.”

He huffed and opened his mouth to disagree, stopping himself as she looked at him curiously. Just in time, the waiter distracted her with steaming plates of baked ziti, grilled polenta cakes and beef ragú. Afterwards, they did take a romantic stroll, according to plan, but not on the beach. Instead, they walked hand-in-hand along the pier, until, finding an empty bench where they sat watching the twinkling harbor lights.

Much later, when he was naked and sated, stretched out on his bed at the condo, she shyly presented him with a belated Christmas gift. Surprised, Logan sat up and took the proffered box, staring at it. “I’m sorry … I don’t have anything for you. I didn’t know we were doing the gift exchange thing.”

She shook her head, waving away his apology. “It’s okay, Logan. I found this while I was unpacking, and I wanted you to have it.”

He tugged at the red ribbon and opened the box. Inside was a framed black and white photo of a middle-aged couple, laughing as they kissed, shadows from the leaves of a tree dancing on their faces. Veronica explained she’d seen them necking in a Paris park, three days in a row, always just a little after noon.

“They made me think of you - of us. So, I snapped it when they weren’t looking.” She was kneeling on her haunches, facing him in a pretty, pink satin nightgown. “I wanted to call you then, but I’d already found Duncan, and we were going home the next day. I figured any conversation could just wait until I got back … I really wish I’d called.”

Logan stared at her, at a loss for words. “We’re here now,” he said finally.

She nodded almost imperceptibly, offering a tremulous smile as she touched his cheek. Crouching forward, she leaned in and kissed him, blindly pushing aside the box and straddling his thighs. Hungrily, he slid his hands under her pink satin gown and up her rib cage until her breasts filled his hands, her nipples puckering under his touch. Already hard again, he flipped her onto her back, nudging apart her knees as she moaned.

Later, as she was lying in Logan’s arms, head pillowed against his chest, he asked about her life in D.C. “I pictured you living in San Francisco, maybe going to Stanford, or Cal … So I’m curious about what you did back east. You know, where you lived, your friends, work …”

“There isn’t much to tell, believe me. I had a postage-stamp studio that barely fit me, let alone my clothes.”

“You do have a lot of clothes.”

“It’s deceptive - about half my wardrobe is strictly for undercover work.”

“I thought that black leather corset thing was a bit out-of-character,” he said, remembering the strange garb he’d found while searching her closet.

“What?”

“…Nothing. So, your apartment sucked. Where’d you hang out?”

“At this little café in Georgetown. You would’ve liked it, I think. The owners did their own roasting right there in the shop, and only used freshly-ground beans. A far cry from Java the Hut’s coffee-in-a-bag, I know, but what’s a caffeine-junkie to do?” She paused and threaded her fingers through his. “I usually went there alone – to work. Would it surprise you if I said I didn’t make many friends while I was in D.C.?”

“You? The most endearing detective since Nancy Drew? Color me shocked … Tell me about work. You must’ve gotten into some interesting cases.”

“They mostly just kept me on the periphery. My boss was a sexist prick who couldn’t find a clue with a telescopic sight. But yeah, when you stripped away all the political bullshit and got down to the actual crime-solving, it was interesting work.”

Abruptly, Veronica lifted her head and propped herself up on an elbow to look at him. “But why are we talking about me? You’re the one with a life,  _ Mr. Echolls _ .”

He groaned, and ran a hand through his hair. “Please don’t call me that. Half the time, I think the runts are asking for my father.”

“But you like what you do – I can tell.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Suddenly, he yawned. Veronica glanced at the bedside clock and saw it was a few minutes after ten.

“Am I boring you?” she teased.

“Sorry. It’s past my bedtime.”

Her eyes lit with amusement at his chagrined answer. “Wow. Asleep by ten. Your bad boy rep has suffered some serious damage while I was gone.”

“Oh yeah? Well, I just nailed the naked, hot blonde in my bed – twice. I think my street cred speaks for itself.” Smug and satiated, he grinned when he felt her light elbow to his ribs just before he closed his eyes and drifted off.

During breakfast the next morning, they were enjoying bagels and coffee on the patio, when Dick stuck his head through the open door. “Hey, dog you’ve got a call. You might want to take it inside,” he leered.

Veronica rolled her eyes and raised her mug. “Top of the morning to you, Dick. Come join me. I’ve got some hot coffee for you, right here.”

“I’ll be back,” Logan muttered, standing to go inside. “Try not to maim him while I’m gone.”

“But I need my morning jollies.”

“You really didn’t make  _ any _ friends in D.C.?”

“Shut up.”

Inside he took the phone from Dick and wasn’t surprised to hear Miya’s breathy voice greeting him on the other end. She’d been in San Francisco, visiting her parents for the holidays, and had just gotten back the night before. “So, did anything exciting happen while I was gone?” she asked.

Logan hedged, wondering if he should do this over the phone. He genuinely liked her, and before Veronica kissed him in the middle of the crowded ballroom, he’d really thought Miya was a girl he could fall for. He’d been unsure what to do – until last night.

“I  _ knew _ there had to be a reason you weren’t taken,” Miya said amiably, after he finished his awkward explanation. “It was ‘D’ still in love with an old flame.”

He started to protest, but remembered Duncan had said pretty much the same thing. When he returned to the patio, Veronica was alone. She smiled as he sat down, although her brow was creased. “Logan, I meant what I said last night. No strings.”

“Uh huh,” he replied, biting into his bagel and grinning to himself. He gave her two weeks, three, tops, before curiosity got the better of the petite P.I. He was serious about what he’d said, too. He wanted to take things slow. At first, he thought it meant keeping his options open, but after last night, he knew it wouldn’t have been fair to Miya. But for once, he wasn’t going to plunge back into a relationship with Veronica.

They were still the same prickly, stubborn, brash, distrustful, vengeful, cantankerous people they’d always been.  _ Why, after all the chances they squandered, would it work this time? _

So he said nothing about breaking things off with Miya, or the fact he had no interest in seeing any other woman but Veronica. Surprisingly, she never asked. Logan’s way of proceeding with caution was to sit back and go along with what was sure to be a roller-coaster of a ride.

They had their first fight a few days later, a mere two weeks after she’d home, he couldn’t help noting. She’d spent the night after a late-night movie marathon that had lasted well past the witching hour. When he came in from his morning swim, she was curled on the couch, reading the newspaper. “There’s a story about Charlie’s teen center. Looks like you guys raised a nice chunk of change. Something about an endowment?”

He peered over her shoulder before heading into the kitchen, toweling his hair. “If we raise enough money to put into investments, the center can operate off dividends instead of relying on grants and donations. Competition is stiff. There’s the usual food banks and shelters. Plus, some group is building a new children’s home not too far from the school. There’s a limit to how much the rich are willing to fork over, even if they do get a tax break.”

“And you set this up? Wow, Logan … I’m impressed,” she said, getting up to follow him, her face a mix of surprise and admiration.

“Why? This is Charlie’s do-gooder project, not mine.”

“Well, I’m proud of you all the same.”

He paused as he was opening the fridge. “And you weren’t before?”

“What? No, I …”

“Nothing’s changed. It’s not like I’m gainfully employed, or anything. The center doesn’t pay me, and what I do at the school is just part-time. So really, the only difference is I’m busier than I used to be.” Although Logan strove to keep his tone even, he could hear the bite in his words as all their arguments over his lack of focus came flooding back.

Grabbing a bottle of water, he twisted off the cap and took a sip, watching Veronica lean over the kitchen island. “But as you’ve pointed out many times, you don’t need the money - just a purpose in life.”

“No.  _ You _ said I needed purpose. I was happy with the way things were. And for the record, I never claimed teaching is what I want to do with my life. If you’re looking for someone with actual goals, Veronica, you’ve got the wrong guy.”

“First of all, I’m not looking for anyone. Second, you run from success like it’s the plague. What’s so bad about having a little ambition?”

“Fine. My ambition in life is to not be my father. Now,  _ he _ was ambitious – and successful. A real role model.” Logan stalked past her, making his way down the hall into his room, where he stripped and padded into the bathroom. Angrily, he twisted the faucet knobs and stepped into the shower’s hot spray. He knew Veronica had only meant to encourage him, but the sentiment hit a nerve. He’d never given a damn whether she was a private-eye, FBI or waitress at TGI Fridays, why the hell should she care what he did?

A half hour later, dressed and hungry, he returned to the kitchen and began foraging for food. Veronica was gone, but he’d expected as much. He was buttering a slice of bread when he noticed the pan of hashbrowns and eggs on the stove. Puzzled, he filled a plate and went out onto the patio, where she was sitting at the table, knees drawn to her chest.

“Hi,” she said, offering a small smile.

“Hey.” He sat down next to her, stunned. Veronica had stayed after all. Not her usual M.O. And she’d cooked. Recovering, he returned the smile, belatedly realizing she didn’t have a plate, only coffee. “Have you eaten yet?”

“I couldn’t wait. I was starving.” Even as she spoke, she reached over and pinched a bit of hashbrown from his plate, quickly popping it into her mouth.

“Still hungry, I see,” he teased, his wry grin softening. “I’m glad you stayed.”

“Me, too,” she said, her smile broadening as she stole a piece of toast.

It wasn’t long before Logan remembered how relentless Veronica could be. Over the next several weeks, she did all the pursuing, asking him to dinner, arranging movie nights or get togethers with Duncan, or Charlie and his fiancée, Annie. It occurred to him she purposely scheduled their commitment-free relationship so he’d be too busy to date anyone else. But he didn’t care.

One Thursday afternoon, she called just as he was leaving school. “Mac and Wallace are here, and we’re ordering Chinese. Care to join us?” He thought about the three-day-old pizza he’d planned to finish off, and quickly agreed. After running home to change into jeans and a tee-shirt, he made a brief stop at the supermarket and headed over to the Sunset Cliffs Apartments. Before he had a chance to knock, Veronica opened the door with a kittenish smile.

“I heard your footsteps,” she said, standing on her tiptoes for a kiss.

Mac was in the stuffed chair, balancing an open computer on her lap, while Wallace hovered by the kitchen counter, peering into several Chinese takeout boxes. They both raised their heads when he entered the apartment, greeting him cheerfully.

“Long time no see, man,” Wallace said, waving a pair of chopsticks.

“Hey guys.” Nodding at Veronica’s friends, he held up a plastic bag. “I come bearing dessert.”

Veronica took the bag from him, turning to put it in the freezer. She took plates out of the cupboard and handed one to Logan. “I have news. I renewed my P.I. license today,” she said, as they settled onto the couch, digging into piles of noodles and fried rice. “And I’ve already landed my first client.”

“I knew, when the FBI thing got scrapped, it was only a matter of time before you’d be solving Neptune’s latest mystery-of-the-week,” Logan commented dryly. “So what’s it this time? Cheating husband? Embezzler?”

“Spoilers.”

“…Come again?”

She told them a Hollywood big-wig hired her to find out who was leaking confidential information about a popular TV sitcom’s storylines. “He’s trying to keep things on the dow-low, so he went looking out of town for a private-eye.”

“Which show?” Wallace asked.

“I can’t say. This guy is seriously paranoid. He acts like he’s dealing in state secrets. Claims these so-called ‘spoilers’ are ruining his ratings, and costing him millions in ad revenue. I was going to point out it’s just a television show, but I need the job.”

“’The Office,’” Mac and Logan guessed simultaneously.

Surprised, Veronica paused mid-bite. “…I’m not saying yay or nay, but you guys watch this show?”

“I’m a techie for corporate America. I live in a cubicle. Of course I watch ‘The Office,’” Mac said. “So Logan, are you a Jammer?”

“Well,  _ duh _ .”

Veronica eyed them curiously. “Mac, did you just hit on my…”

“…no-strings significant other?” Logan offered. “Funny, it sounded more romantic in my head.”

Wallace snickered as Veronica, undeterred, steered the conversation back to business. “What’s a ‘Jammer’?”

“Fans who are rooting for, Jim and Pam, this couple on the show. Jam – get it? They’ve been dancing around each other for years,” Mac informed her. “Every time you think they’re gonna get together, something happens and they don’t. There’s a huge debate on the web.” She turned to her computer and, a few seconds later, spun it around to reveal the laptop screen. On it was a web site dedicated to the fandom.

Veronica studied the screen, occasionally clicking on various forum topics while slurping her noodles. Shaking her head, she said, puzzled, “ _ This _ is what all the fuss is about? I don’t get it. Why would you want to know what’s going to happen before you watch it? That’s cheating. It’s like skipping ahead to the last page of a mystery.”

“Hmmm…how to put this in Veronica language.” Wallace scratched his chin. “Think of spoilers as clues, and your case is to solve what’s going to happen before the end of the show. But you don’t know for sure which clues you can trust. You have to consider the source.”

“What do you mean?”

“You don’t know who’s posting this stuff. It could be a true insider, a really avid fan who goes to shooting locations, or a total nut job. A lot of what’s online is pure speculation, anyway,” Mac contributed.

Veronica stared at her friends, a smile forming on her lips as an idea came to her. “Wallace, you’re free tomorrow, right?”

He groaned, reaching for an eggroll. “Man, some things never change.”

The following week, Logan dropped by her apartment on impulse. She opened the door, her face lighting with pleasure as she let him in. Grinning back, he froze as he glanced over her shoulder and saw a familiar woman perched on one of the kitchen chairs. Darian squealed in recognition, quickly jumping up to give him a hug.

“I was just wrapping up some unfinished business with Veronica,” she explained. “Did she tell you I’m working for my dad now? We hired her to flesh out our network leak. Two of our best writers turned out to be the culprits. I don’t know how I’m going to break the news. You know how uptight Dad can be.”

Uneasy, Logan looked at Veronica in surprise, but her face gave nothing away. “They were having a heated disagreement about how to end the season,” she said. “So one of them decided to float his idea as a spoiler on that web site Mac showed me, and the other writer countered with her idea.”

“Who won?” Logan asked.

Veronica clucked her tongue and wagged a finger at him. “What did I say about skipping to the end of the mystery?”

Darian glanced from Veronica to Logan and chuckled. “It’s really nice you two stayed together all these years,” she said, not noticing their sudden silence. Dimly, he watched from the couch as the women concluded business, his tension growing.

He wondered for the hundredth time what Veronica knew, or how much she’d guessed over the years. Guiltily, Logan realized he’d let her take virtually all the blame for their failed relationship. Even while she was obviously trying to mend her evasive ways, he hadn’t been as open with her, offering only minimal information about his work, always stopping short of any meaningful conversation. His future plans were also a taboo subject. Unlike Veronica, Logan wasn’t a planner. Experience had taught him game plans were pointless, since everything usually went in the crapper anyway.

And he’d certainly never told Veronica his most closely-held secret. He’d been trying to convince himself it didn’t matter. It was ancient history, but his past had a tendency to bite him in the ass.

Darian handed Veronica a check, then turned to Logan. “So, what’s the story with your adorable brother?”

“Uh, story?”

“Is he single?”

Logan grinned, briefly weighing the fallout of siccing the sleek sophisticate on his unsuspecting brother. “Sorry, Darian. He’s engaged … How do you know Charlie?”

“He pitched your endowment to us in person when we couldn’t make the fundraiser. Nice guy, and did I mention adorable? Anyway, tell him Dad’s still considering a donation, but it probably won’t be much. He’s been getting more and more involved with the new children’s receiving home.”

After Darian bid a breezy goodbye, Veronica settled onto Logan’s lap. “So, what brings you by? We didn’t have plans, did we?”

He shook his head. “I hadn’t heard from you in a while, and was wondering how you were.”

Flushing, she hurried to explain. “I’m sorry, Logan. I meant to call, but I was jammed up with this case. I dragged Wallace with me to L.A. We didn’t get back until late last night.”

“It’s okay. I saw your text,” he said, picking up her hand and kissing the backs of her fingers. “I guess I’ve gotten used to you pestering me.”

A surprised smile spread across her face. “I suppose that’s your charming way of saying you missed me.” She brushed her lips against his, letting their noses bump gently.

He cupped her head, deepening the kiss, and moments later his tension had been replaced by a strain of a whole other sort. “Where’s your dad?” he murmured, nibbling on her neck.

“Probably … on his way home.” Reluctantly, she pulled away. “Actually, there’s something I need to talk to you about. It’s the FBI thing … I didn’t exactly quit. I took a leave of absence, and since I didn’t antagonize everyone while I was there, I can still go back. I liked the work and I think maybe, given a better frame of mind, I could do better next time.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying, at some point, I might want to give it another try.”

Logan let the information sink in before he spoke. “Okay. That’s good to know.”

“It won’t be any time soon. Maybe not ever, but I didn’t want to mislead you. If I went back, I’d probably be in D.C. for a while and then who knows where they’d send me ….”

“I guess we’ll have to cross that bridge when we get to it,” he said noncommittally. But when Veronica didn’t answer, he reached out to touch her cheek. “Uh oh. I know that face – you’re hatching some kind of diabolical plan.”

She smiled, sheepish. “Just considering options.”

“And?”

“… And there’s always frequent flyer miles.”

“Right, and phone sex.”

“Lucky I sprang for unlimited anytime minutes.”

Grinning, he couldn’t resist kissing her nose. “So did I. But I’m guessing there’s more on your mind than travel miles and phone plans.”

She nodded and dropped her gaze, worrying her lip as Logan waited. “… I was thinking, if things are serious between us by then, you might consider coming with me.”

Taken aback, Logan hesitated before his mouth quirked in a half smile. “I might. Someone will have to scare away all those East Coast preppies.”

“Please,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes. “FBI standard issue is a 9-millimeter Glock. I can chase them off myself.”

“Now  _ I’m _ scared.”

That night, alone in his bed, he realized the strange sense of well-being he felt was optimism, and he let himself enjoy it. Of course, it didn’t last long. A few days later, one of his students went missing, reminding Logan why he didn’t like making plans.

It happened on a Tuesday afternoon, two weeks into the new semester. Sean, the seventh-grader who’d been a royal pain in the ass at the start of the year, stayed after school to help shut down the computers and lock up the equipment. One of Logan’s best writers, Sean had poked fun at a certain muscle-bound politico’s recent visit to tout an after school workout program. With no actual dollars for exercise classes or activities, it had zero chance of having any real impact. Luckily, Sean’s veiled sarcasm had been just subtle enough to fly under the administration’s censors. It also went past most of the student body, but Logan had gotten a kick out of it.

Gradually, Logan had increased Sean’s responsibilities to include editing other students’ stories and the boy seemed to be flourishing. Lately, he’d begun lingering after school, sometimes working on newspaper stuff, using the computer for homework or, on this particular day, helping Logan straighten up the classroom.

“Where does this sh – uh, stuff, go?” Sean’s small body was practically dwarfed by the large cardboard box he was carrying. The newspaper room was actually a former storage space where teachers dumped old lesson plans, outdated curriculum binders, obsolete training materials and boxes, upon boxes of other useless papers.

“It all goes in the trash,” Logan said, pointing to a stack of debris in the corner. “Thanks.”

The box hit the floor with a loud thud, and Sean turned back to a tall, metal cabinet he’d been clearing out. All the shelves, except for the top one, had been emptied, and now he stood up on his tip-toes, straining to reach a stack of books. He gave a quick tug, accidentally knocking a box off the shelf.

Logan looked up in time to see sheaves of paper raining down, spilling across the floor. He started to grin until he saw the naked fear in Sean’s eyes. “Hey, it’s no big deal,” he hurried to assure the frightened boy, once he made sure Sean hadn’t been physically hurt. “It’s just a bunch of old files nobody even wants anymore. No harm, no foul, okay?”

Together they scooped up the loose pages and dumped them back in the box, shoving it into the corner with the rest of the trash. When Logan stood and reached out to pat Sean on the back, when the twelve-year-old flinched in pain. Jumping up, he grabbed his backpack and fled.

It was as plain as the panic on his face. Someone was abusing Sean.

_ Fuck. I should’ve known. _ Slamming the door, Logan chased after him, cursing himself for not recognizing the signs sooner. The long-sleeved shirts, Sean’s angry defiance, the fear in his eyes. He got to the parking lot just in time to catch a glimpse of Sean climbing into a car moments before it roared off.

The next day, Sean didn’t show up for class. After school, Logan went to the guidance counselor, who told him there wasn’t enough to file a complaint with the police or Child Protective Services. “You never even saw any bruises,” she said, but took the time to give him a rundown on other possible indicators of abuse. She also let him look at Sean’s school records, and, reading between the lines, Logan was able to glean some biographical details about the boy.

Sean was gone the rest of the week. Concerned, Logan drove to his house and knocked on his door. He waited for a minutes, but there was no answer. Another week passed, and he tried several more times to find the missing student, with no luck. One afternoon, as he was leaving the Delgados’ home, he ran into an old nemesis.

“A little birdie told me you were hanging out in my ‘hood, Richie Rich.” Weevil was standing at the edge of the walkway, blocking Logan’s exit. “Care to explain?”

“So what? You need a key to get into these pearly gates? Gee, God must be really disappointed.”

“What are you doing here, whitey?”

“None of your business,  _ cholo _ .”

Weevil rushed forward and grabbed Logan by his shirt. “I wanna know what the hell you’re doing hanging around the Delgado house.”

Resisting the urge to punch Weevil’s lights out, Logan shoved him. “Back off, asshole. I was looking for Sean.”

“Why?”

“He hasn’t been in class. I just wanted to know what’s up.”

“So it’s  _ true _ ? You’re teaching over at the middle school?”

Logan glared at the former PCH gang leader. “Yeah, so?”

Weevil’s burst of laughter grated on Logan; his jaw clenched involuntarily. “So your father’s dirty money finally ran out. How the mighty have fallen. What’s it like to go from being a celebrity killer’s son to a lowly public servant? I mean, you’re not even at a  _ decent _ school.”

“It’s your alma mater, right? I thought I saw your name scrawled in the boys’ bathroom.”

“Yeah, well I’m guessing your car’s gonna spend a lot of time impaled on a flagpole. So what do you want with Sean?”

“Got grease in your ears? I told you. He’s MIA, and I wanted to check on him.”

Weevil studied Logan before grunting. “No one came looking for the others,” he remarked as he walked away.

A few days later, Sean showed up to class, slipping out as soon as the bell rang. When Logan realized he’d gone, he ran out into the school yard, scanning the herds of teenagers, until he finally spotted Sean being dragged across the soccer field by an older man, presumably Sean’s father.

“Hey!” As he caught up to them, Logan reached for the man’s arm. A fist rammed into Logan’s jaw with a resounding crack. He stumbled, pausing for a fraction of a second until baser instincts won out. When the man came at him again, Logan punched back, knocking him to the ground.

Logan looked up, his gaze meeting Sean’s, and as he tried to smile reassuringly at the boy, he thought he saw ... gratitude … glowing in his student’s eyes.

The cops were called and they ended up at the Sheriff’s Department, but for once, Logan wasn’t charged, since the other guy had attacked first. Instead, he had to endure Keith’s stern scowl, on top of a lecture from Charlie. “Damn it, Logan, you should’ve known better than to confront a parent like that,” he reprimanded as they sat in an interrogation rooms, one of the few he hadn’t been in before. “You should’ve exercised a little more self-control. The school’s gonna have to put you on administrative leave while they investigate. That’ll hardly look good on your record.”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass. Let them investigate. Someone’s been using Sean as a punching bag, and my bet’s on this guy.”

“Did Sean tell you this?” Keith asked.

“No, but all the signs are there.” Logan detailed everything, including the way Sean had flinched from his touch.

“That’s hardly proof. You can’t know …” Charlie started to say.

“… I  _ know _ ,” Logan growled, his voice low and emphatic as he trained his steely gaze on his brother. His chair scraped against the floor with an angry screech as he stood, signed his statement, and left. It was one thing dealing with Keith Mars’ obvious disapproval – he was used to it. But Logan expected Charlie to have his back.

He was grateful to find the condo empty when he got home. In the kitchen, he poured a stiff drink and, moving into the living room, sank onto the couch, waiting for the alcohol to numb his agitation. The first time the phone rang, he ignored it, taking a long swallow from his drink while he sat in the dark. He was about to raise his glass again when the phone rang again. This time, he got up and yanked the cord from its jack. Not ten minutes later, an insistent knocking sounded. He groaned, knowing full well who was at the door.

Logan bit back his irritation when he saw her standing on the front porch, arms crossed, head cocked, lips slightly pursed. “Veronica, I’m in no mood …”

“…Tough.” She pushed her way inside and he ground his teeth, letting the door fall shut as she made her way into the living room. “My dad told me what happened.”

“Let me guess, you rushed over to demand an explanation. Why don’t you just ask your dad?” he bit out, following her.

“No. I came over to see if you’re okay, which obviously, you’re not.”

“I’m fine, but you need to leave. I don’t want to be around anyone right now.”

“I’m not just ‘anyone,’ Logan. I’m …”

“You’re  _ what _ , Veronica? You’re not my girlfriend. No strings, remember? And you, barging in here uninvited, definitely qualifies as strings in my book.”

“Quit being an ass. Yelling at me or brooding into a bottle won’t solve your problems, so sober up and we can figure out what to do.”

Logan narrowed his eyes. “I forgot how sanctimonious you get when you meddle.  _ Butt. Out _ ,” he said icily, stabbing the air with his finger.

“Consider this a refresher course. I’m not going anywhere. Your job’s at stake, and I can help.”

“Not so proud of me anymore,  _ are you _ ? Fuck it. I knew this wouldn’t work.”

“Don’t even go there, Logan.” Arms akimbo, she stared him down. “I’m not going to let you end a good thing over a silly fight that’s more about your misplaced sense of guilt than any real problems between us. Besides, as you pointed out, we’re  _ not _ in a committed relationship, so you can’t break up with me.”

“I cheated on Lilly.”

Confused by the abrupt change in subject, she frowned. “I know. I was there, remember?”

“I’m not talking about some stupid kiss. I  _ fucked _ another girl while I was with Lilly!” He folded his arms and waited, knowing his betrayal was guaranteed to send her running. When she said nothing, he leaned forward, snarling sarcastically.  _ “Still love me, Veronica?” _

“Yes.”

The blue eyes he knew so well stared at him, unwavering. He jerked back, shaking his head and wondering crazily if he’d imagined her answer. “Did you hear what I said? I …”

“Oh, I heard you. But I fail to see how something that happened years ago is relevant to us,  _ now _ . Seriously, Logan, cheating on your high-school girlfriend is the deep, dark secret you’ve been carrying around all these years? I thought there’d at least be an actual skeleton in your closet.”

Reeling, Logan sank onto the couch. “That’s rich, coming from someone who thinks adultery is a capital crime. What’s the quaint saying you have about repeat offenders? ‘Once a cheater, always a cheater.’”

“It’s really more a rule of thumb than an absolute. … If I honestly thought it applied to you, I never would’ve come back.”

He glanced up, watching as she lowered herself to perch on the edge of the coffee table. “I know, the FBI brainwashed you, right?”

A faint smile playing on her lips, she shrugged. “Let’s just say, I’m reformed – or at least, trying to be.”

Logan had always hoped for absolution, but he never thought it would come from Veronica Mars.

Dumbfounded and still wary, he stared at her for several moments. Finally, he sat back, absently playing with the half-filled tumbler he’d abandoned earlier. “Any more where that came from?” she asked, indicating his drink with a jerk of her chin.

He rose automatically and headed for the kitchen, where he poured her a glass of tequila watered down with several ice cubes. His eyes widened as she tossed the drink back in two gulps. “Whoa, slow down there, lightweight. Have you eaten yet?”

“Have you?”

Ignoring her, he rooted around in the fridge, emerging from behind the stainless steel door with a Chinese takeout box. “Pad Thai, anyone?” he asked, grinning when he saw her interest suddenly pique. After a quick zap in the microwave, he handed her a pair of restaurant chopsticks. Soon they were leaning across the kitchen island, heads bent over the steaming container of spicy rice noodles as they ate in companionable silence.

When Veronica finished off the last shrimp, she raised her head to look at him. “Can I ask you something?”

“You say that like I could stop you,” he responded lightly.

“The girl - it was Darian, wasn’t it?” Logan straightened, tossing his chopsticks into the empty box. Slowly, he nodded. She was quiet for a moment, debating whether to say more, before speaking again. “Once, when Duncan was out of town, Lilly dragged me to this party in La Jolla. She was acting strange, all hyped up, even for her. Logan, it was  _ Darian’s _ party. Why would she …?”

He shrugged, helpless to explain Lilly’s actions. “She knew I’d been with another girl, but I never told her who. I guess maybe Aaron …” Abruptly, Logan retreated to a far corner of the kitchen. Propping his weight against the cupboards, he braced his arms on the cold countertop and faced Veronica. “So this is the part where all the sordid details are revealed? Sure you can handle it?”

“I can pretty much guess. Lilly always used to hint about other guys, but I wasn’t sure until … later.”

He bent his head, nodding. “Yeah, I know. Me neither. Lilly took great pleasure in taunting me with her escapades, but I thought it was just her way of getting attention. I didn’t think she’d actually … But when she started getting more specific – where they did it, when, how. I lost it once, when she wouldn’t shut up about some guy who had eyes just like mine.”

“… Oh my God.” Veronica gasped softly, feeling sick. “Was it …?”

“No. Aaron came later. He was my punishment. Every time I became convinced she really did cheat, Lilly would laugh and take it all back. So I called her bluff … I loved her, Veronica. But sometimes … I hated her.”

It was the one and only time he’d ever cheated, and, in his mind the consequences had been disastrous. The next time Lilly provoked him, he’d relished telling her about his own dalliance, going so far as to smile smugly while she raged at him.

“I should’ve known something was up when she showed up a few days later, suddenly all forgiving. But it wasn’t until she was dead, and I saw those tapes of her … with my father,” his voice trailed off. “That’s when I  _ knew _ how she’d gotten her revenge. I don’t know what I regret more – screwing around behind her back, or throwing it in her face.”

“Logan, you were barely fifteen years old. You couldn’t have known what would happen.” Slipping off the bar stool, Veronica skirted the kitchen island and wrapped her arms around his waist, resting one cheek against his warm chest before raising her head to look him in the eye. “What happened to Lilly wasn’t your fault.”

“I know. I just wish I hadn’t done it. It’s this horrible mistake I’ll never be able to make right. Of all the dumbass things I’ve done, it’s the worst … and I can’t even tell her how sorry I am.” He hadn’t moved, refusing to take comfort from Veronica’s touch, and when he spoke again his voice was low. “You might as well know, Darian’s the one I was with in Aspen, too.”

Her lips twitched wryly. “I kind of already knew that. I didn’t go digging – I swear. It was pretty obvious.”

“It’s not what you’re thinking. I didn’t cheat on you, Veronica,” he said resolutely, holding her gaze. “I could  _ never _ ...”

“I know.”

“You didn’t used to.”

“You don’t have exclusive rights on dumbass mistakes.”

The corners of his mouth curled into a reluctant grin. He smoothed Veronica’s fine hair, cupping the back of her head and pulling her to him. “Don’t change too much,” he said, pressing lips to her cool brow. “I like my blondes prickly.”

She leaned into him, tilting her face up, eagerly seeking his mouth. He pushed away from the counter, still holding her face in his hands as their tongues clashed hot and wet. When she moaned, he answered with a low growl and began walking her backwards. Impatient, he pinned her against the counter, peeling off her jacket while he devoured her, resisting a primal urge to hike up her skirt and plunge his aching erection inside her. Instead, he let his hands roam down her slender, elegant neck, sliding lower to pay homage to the soft breasts that fit his palms perfectly, prompting another moan.

He felt slim arms encircle his neck and, grasping her waist, easily lifted her off the ground. As Veronica wrapped her legs around his torso, he carried her out of the kitchen and through the living room to the hallway, planting tender kisses on her neck, lips and eyelids. Thankful to find the bedroom door ajar, Logan kicked it open and gently laid her down on the bed, bracing his arms on the mattress as he held himself above her. She tugged on the hem of his tee-shirt, and was soon pulling it over his head. Her hands quickly strayed down his chest and over his stomach to fumble with the fly of his jeans.

Drawing back, he toed off his shoes and stripped down to boxers before hastily shedding them, too. He dispensed with Veronica’s boots, turning his attention to easing her short, denim skirt over smooth, milky white legs. He paused to leave tantalizing kisses on the soft, delicate skin of her inner thighs, and when she squirmed, he nuzzled the gentle slope of her mound. Even through the plain, white-cotton panties he could feel her damp arousal.

Veronica’s breath quickened, and he heard her half-whisper, half-gasp his name in a way that made his already-hard cock jerk. But he tamped his desire, determined to go slow and savor the moment. The long, gray knit shirt she wore had bunched above her waist, and he let his lips wander lazily over her flat, bare belly. When she arched against him, he complied with the unspoken demand, lifting her shirt away in one motion then deftly unhooking her simple, cotton bra as she wriggled out of her panties.

Reverently, he stood back, taking in her nude form in all its glory – the pale, lustrous skin, softly curving, pink-tipped breasts, tapered waist and gracefully flaring hips. He knew every inch of her skin intimately, from the faint, teasing mole hovering just above her pubis to the tiny scar on the inside of her ankle, a soccer injury dating back to when she was twelve.

Logan must’ve seen Veronica naked a thousand times, but it didn’t matter. She still took his breath away.

“Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?” he asked, the lust in his voice tempered with unmistakable tenderness.

Her glowing smile became coquettish. Veronica sat up and scooted further onto the mattress, laying back against a pile of pillows, one arm bent above her head. Slowly, she parted her knees in silent invitation.

Crawling forward, he settled between her legs and nibbled on her neck, feeling fingers clutch his biceps, then move up to curl in the hair at the nape of his neck. She whimpered, her need growing, and wrapped her legs around his waist, ardently urging him closer to her heated center. But he held back, roaming across flushed skin before eventually coming to suckle on one rosy, pebbled nipple. Satiny hips strained towards him, and when he felt her hot, little hands easing a condom over his aching cock, he nearly lost it.

Struggling to regain his control, Logan pulled away. He whispered her name, waiting until he caught a glimpse of cerulean blue peeking out from under hooded lashes. “I want you to know, I never stopped loving you either,” he said huskily, as her eyes met his.

Unable to speak, she swallowed thickly, reaching up to hold his face as he bent and kissed away a single, escaped tear. Logan rested his forehead against hers before bowing his hips and burying himself inside her tight, wet warmth.

Veronica gasped beneath him, each deep thrust sharpening her pleasure. Glassy-eyed, she held his gaze even as overwhelming joy and intense physical sensations reached a crescendo. But when her body began to spasm, she could no longer keep her heavy lids open, and she arched her back, reflexively gripping his smooth, broad shoulders. Logan shuddered, collapsing as their mingled cries filled the room.

They lay naked, limbs intimately entwined, their thudding hearts gradually slowing as the minutes passed. Reluctantly, he rolled away, sweetly kissing the tip of her nose before getting up to dispose of the condom. By the time he returned, she’d moved under the covers and was waiting for him, hands tucked under her cheek. “You’ve ruined me for anyone else. Now you have to keep me,” she said, after he slid between the sheets.

“Gladly.” Logan was smirking, but he looked at her adoringly. Resting his head in the crook of his arm, he brushed a strand of hair from her face and caressed her cheek. He started to say something when the doorbell rang. They both rolled their eyes.

“It’s like his parents had a crystal ball when they named him,” Veronica groused.

Logan glanced at his bedside clock. “He’s early tonight – it’s not even nine o’clock. Want anything from the kitchen?” She shook her head, and he got out of bed, pulling on boxers. When he reached the doorway, he paused and looked back. She was reclining against a pile of pillows, naked except for a thin sheet. Unaware of his scrutiny, she flung an arm over her head and smiled dreamily, her lips still red and swollen from his kisses.

He smiled, whistling as he strode down the hall. He’d had a shitty day, and the moment Veronica showed up on his doorstep, he’d been certain the night would only get worse. But she’d surprised him at every turn. Duncan had been right. Falling in love with her again hadn’t even been a foregone conclusion.

Logan had always loved her, and now he knew he always would.

By then, the knocking had become loud and insistent. Grasping the doorknob, he twisted it. “First I’m gonna string your key on a chain, and then I’m gonna wring your neck …” Logan stopped abruptly when he saw who was standing at the door. He regretted not at least putting on a shirt.

Keith Mars’ deadpan face hid what could only have been displeasure at Logan’s attire, or lack there of. “Sorry to bother you. I tried calling, but the phone’s disconnected.”

Logan glanced past the older man’s shoulder, noting the squad car parked next Veronica’s Saturn. He wondered what she’d told Keith about her nighttime whereabouts, but since lying was clearly not an option, he groaned inwardly and opened the door. “It’s okay. I’ll get Veronica.”

“Actually …”

“… Coming back to bed, handsome?” Her come-hither voice carried down the hall, and both men turned to see her padding into the living area, hands tying a pink silk robe. Hearing Logan’s warning cough, she looked up, startled to see her father. “Dad? What’s going on? Didn’t you get my message?”

“Relax, kids. I’m not checking up on you – believe me. I wouldn’t be here if either of you had answered one of your phones. I just need to ask Logan some questions about Sean.”

Logan shifted, apprehensive. “Sure. Just let me get dressed. I’ll be right back.” A few minutes later, he was tugging on a shirt when Veronica walked in and quickly began shimmying into a pair of shorts and tank top. “Wow. The fun never ends with the Mars family,” he muttered, watching as she pulled her hair back into a ponytail. “Not only did I get caught half-naked by your father, the  _ Sheriff _ , but now he’s gonna interrogate me – again.”

To his amazement, she giggled. “What are you afraid of, Logan? It’s not like he can arrest you or anything. What’s he going to charge you with? Brandishing a weapon?”

“Okay, who are you, and what have you done with the real Veronica Mars?”

“It’ll be fine, I promise.” She grinned and held out her hand. “Ready?”

Hands clasped, they rejoined Keith, who was sitting on a leather club chair, sipping a glass of water. Veronica plopped down on the couch facing him, Logan sinking down beside her.

“So, what’s up, Dad?”

Keith glanced at his daughter, but addressed her companion. “Did you file a missing person’s report on Sean? It’s in the system, but you didn’t mention it.”

Frowning, Logan nodded telling them he’d gone looking for Sean after the boy stopped coming to school. “But no one was ever home … I was worried, so I went ahead and filled out the report. I’d forgotten about it, or I would’ve said something. Why? Is it important?”

“Probably not, but I wanted to double-check before I question Delgado again,” Keith said. “I also stopped by because I thought you’d want to know: I spoke with your principal, and you’ve been cleared of any wrong-doing. All the witnesses say Delgado attacked first, and you were just defending yourself. So you’re free to go back to work.”

“What about Sean? Is someone going to investigate the abuse?” Logan asked.

“I had Delgado checked out, and he doesn’t have a record. There’s never been any other report of abuse.”

“But you think something’s wrong,” Veronica supplied, picking up on her father’s careful choice of words.

Keith nodded slowly. “I took a look at Sean’s school records. Judging from his grades, spotty attendance, and behavioral problems, I’m pretty sure Logan’s right.”

“So you can arrest the guy? Get Sean out of there?” Relieved someone believed him, Logan’s voice was hopeful.

Keith regarded the young man sympathetically and shook his head. “There’s no proof … and unfortunately, it looks like his parents are going to pull him from school.”

Logan lurched forward, dropping his head in his hands. “I never should’ve chased after them.”

“You did the right thing,” Keith said reassuringly. “You tried to protect your student.”

Veronica placed a soothing hand on his back, curling against him as she rested her head on his shoulder. “You hear that? You did good. The Sheriff said so.”

Giving her arm a grateful squeeze, Logan looked at Keith. “So what do we do now?”

“You two aren’t going to do anything. Delgado still has to answer for an assault charge, and I’ve spoken with the prosecutor about the suspected abuse. We’ve done all we can, for now. But I promise you, I’m not going to drop this.”

He stood to leave and they followed him to the door. He kissed his daughter and gave her a quick hug. “Oh, and Logan, do me a favor?” he said, straightening. “After you plug your phone back in, call your brother. Judging from the dozen or so calls to my office, he’s worried about you.”

Logan’s mouth lifted in a slight grin. “I will. Thanks, Mr. Mars.”

Veronica’s father nodded and regarded him for a moment. “Maybe you should start calling me Keith.”

**********

Veronica was running late. Checking her watch, she sighed and parted the dressing room’s lavender silk drapes as she hurried to make her purchase – a black chiffon and lace nightie. She had it on good authority sexy lingerie was the way to a man’s heart. Okay, so it was actually a rehabilitated hooker who offered the advice, but Veronica was pretty sure she’d been right on the money … so to speak.

It was Logan’s birthday, and she was taking him out for an intimate dinner at their favorite waterfront restaurant. “But no presents. I mean it, Veronica. Save your money,” he’d said adamantly. Technically, the lingerie wasn’t a present, and she didn’t think he’d complain once he saw her in it.

After spending a nice chunk of her latest client’s retainer check, Veronica jumped in the car and drove home. Logan was picking her up in less than an hour, and she still had to get ready. Quickly, she threw some things in an overnight bag, showered, then slipped into an old dress she knew he liked. The only jewelry she wore were the earrings he’d given her years ago.

The doorbell rang and, grabbing her purse and bag, she popped her head into Keith’s room. “Logan’s here. I’m spending the night at his place, so FYI, you’ve got the whole apartment to yourself.”

“Duly noted, honey. Wish Logan ‘happy birthday’ for me.”

Veronica hesitated before waving goodbye and closing the door. Later, after they devoured a specially-ordered birthday cake, she confided her growing suspicions about Keith and a new deputy district attorney named Espie Martinez. “She oversees the cases involving juvenile victims, and he’s been working with her a lot lately. I ran into them in my dad’s office the other day. There was a definite vibe. Plus, I found Neptune Grande stationery on his desk.”

“And naturally, you put two-and-two together,” Logan commented dryly. “You okay with her?”

She considered the question, fingering the rim of her wineglass, and nodded. “Yeah, I am. She’s smart, funny, and she seemed really nice. I’m glad he’s seeing someone.”

“But?”

“I think I might be cramping his style. She’s divorced, has a teenage son at home, and thanks to me, Dad’s nest isn’t empty anymore, either. As I was coming in last night, I caught him leaving the apartment with a duffle bag.”

He sniggered. “So your dad has to sneak off to the Grande to get it on with his girlfriend? Maybe there  _ is _ justice in the world.”

“Yeah, well it might be time for this baby bird to fly the coup,” she mused. “I should probably save a little more money first.”

Logan glanced down at his plate, idly playing with a piece of mint garnish. “Or you could move in with me,” he mumbled, cautiously peering up to gauge her reaction.

“… Okay.”

From his astonished expression, it was obvious he hadn’t expected her to acquiesce so easily - or at all. Veronica’s quick response surprised even her. She hadn’t really decided to get her own place until moments before, but as soon as he offered, she knew moving in with Logan was exactly what she wanted. Slowly, she smiled and waited for him to recover.

“Okay,” he said, slightly dazed. “I guess we’re shacking up.”

Later, as they were leaving the restaurant, he caught her by the waist, twirling her towards a secluded spot on the pier. Pressing her against a wooden railing, he swooped down and kissed her, stoking her desire. When they finally broke apart, he continued trailing soft kisses along her neck until she gripped his forearms and pulled away.

Tilting her head back, she looked up, nervously searching his face. “Are you sure you want to do this, Logan? Moving in together is a big step. It’s not exactly taking things slow.”

“I’m sure.” He cupped her cheek, brushing her thumb across velvety skin. “You’re the only one I want, Veronica. Strings or not, there hasn’t been anyone else since you came back.”

She beamed, her eyes suddenly moist. “Let’s go back to your place. Have I got a present for you. Think see-through, black lace.” Whispering seductively in his ear, she enunciated every word enticingly, laughing when she heard his low growl. He grasped her waist and propelled her towards the car. Ten minutes later, when Logan slid the Rover into an empty parking space, she gazed across the street at his Spanish-style condo and thought with a thrill, it would soon be  _ their _ home.

A tap on the window broke her reverie, and she quickly climbed out. She’d only taken a few steps when she stopped abruptly, remembering her overnight bag in the backseat. He unlocked the door with a click of the keyless remote, leaning against the bumper while she retrieved her bag. As she strode up next to him, he started to take the unwieldy burden, when something further down the street seemed to catch his eye. “That’s weird. Isn’t …?”

Following his gaze, Veronica looked up. A man with a black goatee was moving towards them at a fast clip. Robert Dohanic reached inside his jacket, and even from a block away she could see something metallic glinting in the streetlight. “Oh my God.” Frantic, she turned and began pushing a confused Logan behind the SUV. Hearing a scream from one of the other condos, she threw her bag at him and he staggered, still in harm’s way. In desperation, she hooked her leg around Logan’s, tripping him as she tackled his body with her full weight, just as shots rang out.

They landed on the hard, concrete sidewalk in a tangle of limbs. Scrambling to her feet, she crouched behind the Range Rover, peering under the carriage. Already, several neighbors were running outside. Suddenly, a dark sedan screeched around the corner, slowing to let Dohanic jump in before peeling away down the street.

“He’s gone,” she said, limp with relief. Veronica turned, expecting to see Logan. Her heart lurched as she realized he was still lying in a heap on the ground, eyes shut and motionless.

**********

The street swarmed with activity. Black and white patrol cars blocked the road, their red and blue lights blazing, an ambulance parked halfway on the sidewalk. Neighbors huddled behind the yellow crime scene tape, some pointing to the plastic markers in the road denoting the fallen rounds.

Everyone moved out of the way when another sheriff’s vehicle pulled up. Before the driver could come to a full stop, Keith jumped out and ran up the sidewalk. Bursting through the front door of the condo, he shouted his daughter’s name.

Veronica leaped up and ran across the room, hugging him fiercely. “I’m fine, Dad,” she said, her voice muffled in her father’s chest. “But, Logan …”

“ … He was shot?”

“Not exactly.” She led Keith back into the living room, where Logan was laying on the couch, holding an icepack to his forehead. “He’s more like a victim of friendly fire … or something. When I pushed him to the ground, I must’ve clocked him with my bag.”

“Knocked me out cold,” Logan grumbled, struggling to sit up. “Not to sound ungrateful, but what the hell do you keep in there? You’re spending the night, not mounting a covert operation.”

“Just the usual. Makeup, clothes, laptop, cell phone tracer, taser ... You know, girl stuff.”

Keith interrupted. “I’m glad to hear you two can make light of this, but I’d appreciate if someone would tell me exactly what happened here.”

“Ask her,” Logan said, jerking his chin towards Veronica. “All I remember is seeing some guy …”

She quickly filled her dad in on the night’s events, explaining she’d recognized the shooter as the same man she’d seen in Australia, searching for Duncan. “You know him, too, Logan. Remember, senior year in high school? We saw him with Meg’s parents at Amy’s, then again at school, talking to Lucky.”

She turned back to her father. “I searched his apartment in Mollymook, so I knew he had a gun.” Keith pulled out his phone even as Veronica told him she’d already warned Duncan about Dohanic. Nodding, he stood and left to speak with one of the deputies.

“So what? This is about Duncan?” Logan asked after a few minutes. “That doesn’t make any sense. Why go after you?”

“I’m not so sure tonight had anything to do with Duncan,” Keith said, returning to the living room. “I just got off the phone with Jake Kane, and there hasn’t been a peep over there. That doesn’t necessarily mean anything, but Logan’s right. It’s been almost two years … And according to Sacks, the other witnesses say the shooter was aiming for you, Logan.”

“But that doesn’t track, either.” Veronica said. “Logan had nothing to do with Duncan leaving, or bringing him back. I’m the only reason he even knows who Dohanic is.”

“Has anything unusual happened recently, Logan? Maybe you noticed someone following you, or hanging around a lot? Maybe Delgado … ” Keith asked.

Logan frowned, shaking his head. “No. There’s been nothing. And I’ve kept my nose clean, I swear.”

“Okay. I’ve got a warrant out for Dohanic’s arrest, but I’m keeping a deputy outside for at least the next couple of days. I want you two to lay low for a while. Promise me you’ll be careful.”

“We will, Dad.” When they were finally alone, Veronica perched on the edge of the couch, turning to face Logan, and gently pulled away the icepack. She winced, examining the large, reddening swell on his head. “The paramedic said you probably have a concussion. You really should go to the hospital.”

“Wanna play doctor?” he leered, grabbing her hand and tugging her onto his lap. His lips grazed her collarbone and began to dip lower. “Wait, aren’t you supposed to be in something see-through? It’s still my birthday, you know.”

Chuckling she pulled away. “Nice try stud, but you need sleep – and more ice.” She stood and walked to the kitchen, ignoring his dramatic sigh.

“Great. It’ll match my blue balls.”

She opened the freezer door, hiding her grin. Logan’s libido was obviously still intact and functioning, and she decided it was a good sign the rest of him would be okay, too. She filled a plastic bag with ice and, remembering the paramedic’s instructions, reached for some aspirin. But her hands shook as she poured him a glass of water.

For a single, sickening instant, Veronica had thought she’d lost Logan forever, and her heart had shattered.

Even now, she had to fight back a choking panic. She covered her mouth to stifle a sob, jumping when she felt a pair of strong, comforting arms embrace her from behind. Logan playfully nipped her neck, waiting for her body to relax before letting his hands meander over softly curving breasts.

The sudden, intense jolt of desire caught Veronica unawares. One moment she wanted to drag Logan to the hospital escorted by armed deputies, the next she ached for him to fuck her right there, on his gleaming, granite counter. When a moan escaped, she could swear she felt his smug smile on the bared slope of her shoulder. Reaching behind, she threaded fingers in his hair, bracing her other hand on the counter as she pushed back against his hardening bulge.

Logan groaned and spun her around, pressing her into the cupboard and attacking her mouth. As he kneaded her ass through thin silk, the skirt of her dress gradually inched up over creamy thighs, bunching around her waist. He hooked his fingers in a wisp of black lace and tugged gently, abandoning her mouth to taste her neck and exposed clavicle. Sinking to his knees, he let her panties pool to the floor, delicately kissing her inner thigh as her legs fell open. Then, using his teeth and tongue, he alternated between gently nipping her sensitive clit and tracing torturous circles over it. His dick jumped at the sound of her high, sharp gasp.

Abruptly, Veronica’s fluttering hands batted him away. He stood, an eager grin on his face as he started to pull her towards the bedroom. But she stopped him, placing a hand on his chest and pushing until he backed into the kitchen island. His heart quickened at the mischievous, seductive smile flicking over her lips. “Turnabout’s fair play,” she said huskily, eyes glittering.

Nimble fingers made quirk work of his fly and, moments later, he felt Veronica’s hot, wet mouth doing magically sinful things to his cock. “Jesus,” Logan ground out when her tongue swirled around the swelling head. “Veronica – I can’t …” Grasping her arms, he pulled her up, pinning her against the stainless steel refrigerator door. He yanked down the thin straps of her dress, exposing her unfettered breasts to his mouth.

“Lo-gan,” Veronica mewled, overwhelmed. She clutched his shoulders, thrusting her hips forward, suddenly desperate to have him inside her. He pulled away to fumble in his discarded slacks for a condom. When he turned back to her, a shared look of urgent desire passed between them. She held out her arms, and he stepped into their circle as she wound them tightly around his neck, dimly registering the feel of cold steel at her back.

Hands slid down her haunches before Logan hitched one shapely leg over his hip, and plunged inside her tight, moist sheath. Gravity and the angle of their bodies, combined with his deep, rhythmic thrusts, had her biting into his shoulder to stifle her cries as an orgasm crashed over her. As she continued to quiver around him, Logan drove into her one last time, finally giving in to his own release.

Panting and breathless, they slid to the tile floor. For several moments they lay side-by-side, propped up against the refrigerator, recovering. Turning her head, she looked at him through hooded eyes. “Happy birthday,” she said, chuckling at his roguish grin.

Later, after they’d showered and gone to bed, Veronica watched Logan sleep, monitoring his even breathing for several minutes until she was satisfied he was okay. Quietly setting his alarm to go off every two hours, she slipped out of bed and went in search of her phone. Not wanting to disturb him, she crept into the living room and hit speed dial.

“Veronica, honey, what’s wrong?” her dad answered anxiously.

“Everything’s fine, Dad. It’s been quiet. Did you find Dohanic? He say anything?”

“He’s on the run. I’ve got an all points bulletin out for his arrest, and my deputies are scouring the town. But it might be a good idea for you and Logan to find someplace else to stay, maybe get out of town.”

“Okay, we’ll think about it. But first, tell me what you found out about Dohanic,” she said, hearing her father’s heavy sigh.

“Not much,” he admitted before giving her a brief rundown on the would-be assassin.

Veronica had been wrong about him. Thirty-seven-year-old Robert Dohanic was a distant cousin to Lucky’s father, not an uncle, and beginning in his mid-teens, had been in and out of the criminal justice system on charges ranging from drug possession to robbery. Only the minor offenses had stuck, and he’d skated clear of any serious punishment. His life of crime ended, however, when a local pastor took him under his wing and hired him to do odd jobs around the church.

“He’s been clean ever since,” Keith said.

She thanked her dad and hung up, assessing what she’d just learn as she wearily crawled back into bed. Other than a few additional details, her dad had been right – there wasn’t much. She already knew Dohanic was affiliated with the Mannings’ church, and given his actions in Australia, and the gun he’d kept, it hadn’t been much of a leap to guess he had a criminal background.  _ But what did it have to do with Logan? _ She curled up against his warm body, her eyes slowly closing.

Veronica let him sleep in the next morning, knowing he was tired after a night of interrupted slumber. Logan had woken easy each time the piercing alarm clock sounded, and except for an ugly bruise and some lingering grouchiness, he seemed to be fine. So when faint stirrings sounded from another part of the condo, she dressed and left him, still splayed across the bed, lightly snoring away. An hour later, he padded into the living room where she was hunched over her laptop.

“How do you feel?” she asked, hopping off the bar stool to check the bump on his head. “My dad stopped by while you were asleep. He got the ballistics report back and there was something interesting in it.”

She told him the bullets recovered from his neighbor’s picket fence were a perfect match with two slugs found rattling around the skull of a known drug trafficker four years ago. The case was still unsolved, but it was widely believed to have been a hit ordered by Neptune’s notorious Irish mob.

Logan stiffened and shook his head. “Uh huh. No way, Veronica. I haven’t had anything to do with the Fitzpatricks in years. Why would they want me dead?”

“I don’t think they do.”

Between bites of cereal, she told him she spent the morning looking into the Levi Stinson Adoption Center, an ultraconservative placement facility where the Mannings had wanted to dump Meg’s baby. So far, she’d discovered it was part of a coalition of private, non-profits supposedly aimed at providing help for children in need. “Turns out they run a bunch of adoption centers and children’s homes up and down the West Coast.”

“Yeah, I know.” Logan peered over her shoulder. “They’re the ones raising money for a receiving home in Neptune. You know, the one near Charlie’s teen center. What does it have to do with Dohanic?”

“I don’t know. I’m going to find out,” she said, shutting her computer and preparing to leave.

But Logan blocked her departure, his fingers curling firmly around her upper arm. “Veronica, your dad said to lay low. Somehow I don’t think you sticking your nose into Dohanic’s business qualifies.”

“He shot at us for a reason, and I’m want to know why.”

“He was aiming for  _ me _ . I’m the one he’s after – not you … Look, I’ve been thinking, you should go back to your place. Moving in right now is a bad idea. I won’t let you get involved in my mess.”

“ _ You won’t let me? _ ” Angrily, she wrenched her arm from his grasp, eyes blazing. “News flash. I’m already involved. You can’t possibly think I’d drop this just because you commanded it. Sorry, Logan, but I haven’t reformed  _ that _ much – and I’m not going to.  _ Ever _ .”

“For Christ sake, Veronica. This isn’t some demonstration of male dominance. If I have a target on my back, I don’t want you getting caught in the crossfire! I – I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to you.”

Instantly, she softened and reached up to encircle his neck, hugging him to her. “I know. But, this is what I do. It’s what I’m good at,” she said, drawing back to look him in the eye. “I’m not going to stand by and let someone gun you down. I  _ am _ going to get to the bottom of this, whether I stay here or at my dad’s.”

Logan searched her face helplessly. “I don’t suppose I can talk you into taking an exotic vacation with me while your dad handles the investigation?”

“Have you  _ met _ me?”

“Italy? France? Want to sip piña-coladas on the beach – how ‘bout Jamaica?” But when Veronica stubbornly pursed her lips and fixed him with one of her all-too familiar, implacable, never-gonna-budge stares, he let out a resigned sigh. “Fine. But I’m not letting you out of my sight. Either we do this together, or … I’ll call your dad.”

She arched one eyebrow, tilting her head, pretending to consider. “Deal,” she said, sealing their bargain with a kiss.


	5. Part V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan & Veronica begin working together and follow leads to a sinister conspiracy.

After exacting Veronica’s solemn promise not to leave the condo without him, Logan jumped in the shower. He emerged 15 minutes later and dressed quickly in jeans and a t-shirt before heading into the living area.

“There’s toast and aspirin on the counter for you,” Veronica said, glancing up as she slipped a laptop into her messenger bag. “We need to swing by my place and get something for Mac, so eat up. Time’s a wastin’. And by the way, I’m driving.”

Logan gulped down the pills with a mug of lukewarm coffee. He kissed Veronica on the forehead and handed her the keys to his Range Rover. Grasping the keys, she took a sip of coffee and headed for the door. “And we’re switching cars.”

Moments later, as Veronica steered the black SUV through the streets of Neptune, she outlined her plan of attack.

“Obviously, we have to start with Dohanic. If Mac can get into those files I downloaded off his computer in Australia, maybe we can find out something useful. He’s the key to figuring out who was behind the attempt on your life, and I’d bet my life it has something to do with the Levi Stinson Center.”

In the meantime, Mac was already trying to unravel the tangled string of non-profit groups affiliated with Levi Stinson. Most of them were were in L.A. with a couple of San Diego and even Arizona. There were several group homes as well as two business offices - one in Neptune and the other in Phoenix.

“I have a feeling there’s more out there, but they’re hidden behind private corporations and conglomerates. It’ll take me days to sort through it all. Hopefully, Mac can use her magic and speed things up.

Logan asked if she’d uncovered anything more about the founder.

She shook her head. “Not much.”

A Lexis/Nexis search turned up a feature story on the center and its charismatic founder and namesake. Levi Stinson had begun modestly enough as a minister of a small, Evangelical church in East L.A. during the late 1960s. As his congregation grew, so did his influence. Quickly, quietly, he rose through the ranks to become one of the most powerful men in the western states. Yet, aside from a few rumors and innuendo, little was actually known about the enigmatic spiritual leader turned business man.

“I can’t even find a photo of him,” Veronica complained. “It’s like he disappeared from the public eye, but his name is everywhere in the nonprofit world.”

“There was a business brief about that new children’s receiving home you mentioned,” she added, then paused. “Didn’t Darian say her father gave them a bunch of money?”

“Yeah, I think so. Why?”

“It’s odd. There was virtually no press about the new center in Neptune. Your brother is manic about courting the media as a way of attracting more donors. So how does Levi Stinson manage to drum up money?” Veronica wondered aloud.

“Charlie is an unknown entity. He needs public grant money as well as every last dollar he can scrape up in individual and corporate contributions,” he said. “We’re talking jars of pennies. From what I understand, the Levi Stinson Center has a mobs setup.”

“…As in organized crime?” she asked in disbelief.

“As in M-O-B-S,” he said, spelling out each letter in the acronym. “Museums, opera, ballet, symphony. Wealthy patrons pay a tidy sum for the dubious privilege of serving on their boards. It’s not the traditional route for service nonprofits, but perfectly legal.”

Veronica nodded thoughtfully as she pulled into her apartment complex. “I just know there’s something hinky about that place. Before she died, Meg made Duncan promise he wouldn’t let her parents dump Lilly there.”

“Could the Mannings be involved somehow? They hired Dohanic to track down Duncan. Is it really a leap to think they’ve got other shady dealings?”

She let them into the apartment and kneeled to scratch Backup behind the ears. “I thought of that. According to Duncan, the Mannings left Neptune last year and are living somewhere in Europe. Not that I would put it past them to orchestrate evil doings from abroad, but no matter how I turn it around in my head, I don’t see a motive for killing you.”

“What are they doing in Europe?”

“Hiding in shame. Jake Kane tracked down a former maid who saw them abuse Meg’s sisters. She had some pretty incriminating photos, from what I understand. Duncan’s dad used them to blackmail the Mannings into dropping their custody suit.”

Veronica headed into her bedroom. She found a screwdriver in her desk drawer, then went back into the hallway, where she crouched by an air vent and began unscrewing the grate. Moments later, she retrieved the flash drive from its hiding place

Logan was leaning against the doorjamb, grinning at her and shaking his head. When footsteps sounded outside the apartment, though, his face suddenly took on a mildly panicked look.

Veronica peered around the corner. “Relax, it was just our neighbor,” she said.

“Thought it was your dad,” he mumbled. “You know, we’re gonna have to tell him you’re moving in with me.”

She chuckled, replacing the vent and moving into her bedroom. “I already told him.”

“Funny, I didn’t hear any shouting.”

“There wasn’t any. He was … fine with it. After all, I am twenty-four - hardly his little girl anymore.”

“Veronica, you’re his only child, the apple of his eye. You two have been a crime-fighting duo, battling Neptune’s injustices since the first time you broke out of the crib. You’ll always be his little girl, and I’ll always be the guy who …”

“… saved my life, and came to my rescue on more than one occasion. He knows you make me happy. Honestly, he’s a little wistful, but okay with it. I think he’s even contemplating a move of his own.”

She finished packing an overnight bag, and they locked up the apartment before pulling away in her nondescript Saturn headed towards Kane Software. “Tell me what you know about Sean,” Veronica asked, glancing at him as she drove.

“You think this is about Sean?” he asked, incredulously. “He’s just a kid.”

“I don’t honestly know, Logan. I’m grasping at straws,” she replied. “I do know you stayed out of trouble until your little fight with Sean’s dad. Then he and his entire family suddenly disappear and someone tries to kill you. Maybe it’s just a coincidence, but I don’t believe in coincidences, do you?”

Her voice softened. “I need you to tell me everything you know about him and his family.”

Uneasy, Logan ran a hand through his hair and expelled a breath. “He never really talked about that kind of thing. He didn’t talk much, period. I don’t know the full story, but I heard his father was from Neptune. Sean was living with his grandmother in L.A. before moving in with his aunt and uncle.”

“So Delgado isn’t Sean’s father?”

“No. Sean’s parents are dead - Delgado’s his dad’s brother, I think.” 

“All this was in his file at school?”

Logan shook his head. “I asked around.”

“When? You never mentioned it.”

He bristled at the accusatory tone, but realized this was just how she got when she was on a case. A dog with a bone had nothing on Veronica Mars. “It was a a few days after the fight at school. I went to the Delgados’ neighborhood looking for Weevil and ended up talking to some of Sean’s neighbors. I didn’t say anything at the time, because I didn’t want to involve you. I know how you get once you sink your teeth into something and I didn’t want you getting hurt.”

Grudgingly she conceded his point. “So why did you want to talk to Weevil? You two get chummy while I was gone?”

“I ran into him in front of Sean’s house. After we exchanged high-fives and butt slaps, he said something weird about how ‘no one came looking for the others.’ I wanted to find out what the hell he was talking about.”

By then, they had reached Kane Software. She stopped at the security booth, and the guard waved her through. Mac was waiting for them at the front desk, and Veronica gave her the flashdrive.

“Duncan wanted me to tell you Clarence Weidman looked into Dohanic back when you were in Australia, and he found a girlfriend. Here’s her info,” she handed Veronica a slip of paper. “I’ll call you as soon as I get anything, but it probably won’t be until tonight.”

As they walked back to her car, Veronica glanced at the girlfriend’s address, then pulled out her phone and dialed an old number, praying it still worked.

“Hey Weevil, it’s Veronica. Logan and I have something we need to discuss with you.”

Logan looked at her surprise. “What are you doing?” he asked, when she hung up.

“Killing two birds with one stone,” she replied. “Dohanic’s girlfriend lives in Weevil’s neighborhood. We can talk to him and check her out at the same time.”

Twenty minutes later, she pulled up in front of a small, but tidy house with a wrought-iron fence around the neatly trimmed lawn. They got up and walked up the path hand-in-hand. “Play nice,” she said before knocking. Logan grunted in response and moments later the door opened.

“Whitey,” the biker grudgingly acknowledged Logan.

“Paco,” he sniped back at Weevil.

“Give it a rest, boys,” Veronica ordered. “I don’t have time for a pissing contest.”

“I see you’re as bossy as ever. Is that how your screwy relationship rolls? You’re the guy, and Mopey over here’s the girl? No wonder you’re always breaking up.”

Holding out an arm to block Logan, she glared at Weevil. “Let’s just get this over with, shall we? Logan told me he saw you at Sean’s house. Tell us what you meant when you said no one came looking for the others.”

“Are we trading favors again ‘cause I think you still owe me,” Weevil evaded. Just then an older woman’s voice called his name from somewhere in the rear of the house. “Come on. My abuela knows more than I do.”

He led them to the kitchen, where a spicy aroma emanating from the oven, tantalized their noses. Clean and homey, the room’s walls were painted a bright, sunny yellow that complemented the deep-blue cupboards. Mexican ceramic dishes and plates were stacked on the partially re-tiled counter near an old, yellow refrigerator and matching enamel stove.

Mrs. Navarro was bent over the open oven pulling out a large baking tray filled with carnitas, checking the roasted pork for crispness. She looked up and gasped in surprise when she saw her guests.

“Mr. Logan,” she exclaimed, rushing over to clasp his hand. “It’s been so long. You’re all grown up! How are you? How is Miss Trina?”

“It’s just Logan, Mrs. Navarro. I’m good. Trina’s in New York, trying to make it big on the Great White Way. But she can’t sing, or dance so …”

She wagged her finger at him, but was laughing as she gestured for them to sit at a rustic, wooden table. Weevil pulled four glasses from the cupboard and asked his grandmother about the Delgados as she began pouring iced tea from a big, blue pitcher.

“Por que?” Mrs. Navarro asked, crossing the room to dish steaming piles of carnitas into a platter.

Veronica quickly told them about Sean’s abuse at the hands of his uncle and the attempt on Logan’s life. Mrs. Navarro placed the platter and a covered basket of warm tortillas on the table, and sat down, waving at them to eat. “What would you like to know?”

“Weevil said there were ‘others.’ Did other kids go missing?”

“Well, I don’t know if they’re missing. The Delgados took care of two ninos, Manuel and Maria – brother and sister. They were sweet kids, well-behaved, you know? Then one day they were gone, no reason.”

“How do you know this?” Veronica questioned.

“Tita Rosa, my grandmother’s sister, lives next door to the Delgados. The two, old biddies know everything that goes down in this neighborhood,” Weevil said affectionately.

“How’d Sean end up living with his uncle?” Logan asked.

Sean’s father, Richard Delgado, had grown up poor in Neptune. He’d won a soccer scholarship to UCLA, where he later went on to graduate from law school as well. He married his college sweetheart, a girl from east L.A. and Sean was born shortly after Richard took a job with a prestigious, law firm with an office in Wilshire Boulevard.

Sean was only six years old when both his parents were killed in a single-car accident on the Pacific Coast Highway near Malibu. A few years later, when his maternal grandmother died, he bounced around from relative to relative until settling with his aunt and uncle, the Delgados. They’d moved back to Neptune from Arizona just before the start of the school year.

Veronica frowned, something niggling in the back of her mind. She pulled a folder out of her bag and handed a photo to Weevil. It was one of the surveillance shots she’d taken in Australia. She’d used a telephoto lens to get the close-up of him relaxing at a café, and it was the best likeness she had.

“Take a look at this. Have either of you seen him before?”

He peered at the picture. “Yeah, I used to see him around. I think his girl lived down the street, but the house has been empty a while. There have been a few plumber vans and white guys hanging around, though. Don’t suppose you know anything about that?”

They got directions to the girlfriend’s place a few blocks away, thanking Weevil and his grandmother for their help before leaving. Veronica parked across the street and they both looked at the dilapidated house with its peeling paint and dark, shuttered windows. It was an old, 1920s bungalow whose wooden frame sat several feet above street level, probably as a precaution against floods. A chain-link fence surrounded the once-charming Craftsman-style house, and when Veronica tested the gate, it was unlocked.

They climbed rotting wood stairs to the wide front porch and knocked on the door. No one answered, despite three more attempts. Under Logan’s objections, Veronica took out her lock picks and within moments the door popped open. She started to go inside, but he grabbed her elbow pulling her back as he brushed past to make sure the coast was clear.

The house was empty.

“You take the bedrooms, I’ll check the living room and kitchen,” Veronica instructed. Two hours later, they had nothing to show for their efforts, despite a thorough search. “Everything’s been cleared out. They’re obviously on the run.” She started to leave, nearly tripping when her toe caught on the edge of a metal grate for some sort of air vent directly under the dining room.

Veronica abruptly turned and disappeared into the rear of the house, going straight to the enclosed back porch where earlier she’d noticed a dutch door with a built-in window. Wordlessly, she pulled it open, aluminum blinds knocking loudly, and walked out onto another set of rickety stairs leading down to the backyard.

Logan was instantly on her heels, hissing in a low whisper. “I thought we agreed you wouldn’t run off on your own?” But she had already reached the bottom and was pushing on what appeared to be a padlocked door leading under the house. With one good shove, the rusted-out nails holding the lock in place fell away from a weathered, wood frame.

Cautiously, she entered the unfinished flood basement, her shoes soundless on the packed-dirt floor. Logan followed close behind, stooping to avoid the low, exposed, ceiling rafters. Almost immediately, a sickening stench assaulted their nostrils. “What is that?” Logan asked, his voice muffled by the hand he’d clapped over his mouth and nose.

Veronica didn’t answer as she picked her way past broken furniture, boxes and an old, porcelain commode until she reached a corner where stacks of bagged, dry cement sat on top of a blue tarp. Gingerly, she toed the ground around the edges and pulled out a flashlight. Shining the beam at the tarp, she lifted it just enough to see the dirt below had been disturbed.

Backing away, she grabbed Logan’s arm. “Come on. Let’s get out of here,” she said. Once they were at the car, she reached for her phone. “Dad, I think you should get a search warrant for a house at Euclid and Magnolia - Dohanic’s girlfriend lived there. I don’t want to explain over the phone, but send the crime scene guys. I think there’s something buried in the basement.”

Several hours later they sat in Keith’s office, resigned as he glowered at them reprovingly. “Breaking into a house and uncovering dead bodies is not what I’d call ‘laying low,’ Veronica,” he thundered, before training his stare on Logan. “And you should be home resting, not aiding and abetting my daughter all over Neptune. I ought to throw the two of you in a cell. At least then I’d sleep better.”

A knock interrupted the lawman’s lecture, and Leo walked in. After a brief nod at Veronica, he confirmed the crime scene unit had just unearthed the body of what appeared to be a teenage boy.

Logan hunched forward, trying not to be sick. “Is it … Sean?” he managed to croak, as Veronica reached out to comfort him.

The young deputy shook his head somberly. “No. The coroner thinks whoever it is has been down there for at least a couple of years.”

Veronica and Logan exchanged glances, and when Keith fixed them with another blistering stare, she told him what they’d learned about the brother and sister who once lived with the Delgados.

“Okay,” he said, his face grim. “Leo, find out what you can on the them and send it to the medical examiner.”

“Sure.” Leo started to leave the office. “Uh, sir, there’s more. Inga wanted me to tell you the feds called again.”

“The feds? What’s going on?” Veronica asked.

“The FBI is taking over Logan’s case. Their field agent has been hanging around here all day wanting to talk to the two of you. I’m sure they’re going to be all over this dead boy, too,” he replied before another deputy called him away.

“Great. That Morris broad hates me,” Veronica muttered.

“Yeah, well, she’s not my biggest fan, either. I say we scram before she comes back.”

They made it as far as the reception area before a dark-haired man in a black suit strode in, his face breaking into a smile when he saw Veronica. Shocked, she faltered momentarily before crossing her arms and cocking her head as the man sauntered over.

“You really do know how to kiss up to those head honchos, don’t you?” Her tone was breezy, but it held a definite chill.

“Friend of yours, honey?” Logan asked drolly, his curiosity obviously piqued.

Wanting to avoid further questions, Veronica sucked in a breath and made the introductions. “Logan Echolls, meet Special Agent Mark Chandler. We worked together in D.C. Logan is …”

“… Oh, I know who Logan is. Movie star’s son turned trust fund bad boy, Duncan Kane’s best friend and, let’s not forget, your ex-lover. Our files tell all,” Mark winked affably and extended a hand, which Logan ignored.

The agent arched a brow, then turned an affectionate gaze on Veronica. “It’s good to see you, Vee. You’re looking beautiful as always. I wanted to call as soon as I got to town, but everything’s been so crazy. When all this blows over, we should get together and have drinks. For old time’s sake.”

She shrugged noncommittally, stifling her irritation. “So what are you doing here, Mark? One little shooting hardly merits the FBI’s attention, even if the target is Logan Echolls. Sure, he’s a popular guy, but come on.”

Straightening, Mark glanced around the bustling squad room. “I’d rather not do this out here. Can we go somewhere more private?

“Fine.”

Veronica led them into an empty interview room, turning to Mark expectantly after they’d seated themselves around the table. He tipped his chair and leaned back, obviously at ease. He’d been transferred to the San Diego field office shortly after Veronica left D.C., and within a week his first assignment as a full-fledged agent landed on his desk: investigate an anonymous tip the Levi Stinson Children’s Coalition was committing fraud.

A superficial look at the non-profit’s web of agencies and questionable investments was enough to raise a few flags. So Mark traced phone calls from both the Neptune and Phoenix business offices to one Robert Dohanic. “He was already on our radar when we saw he was wanted for the attempt on your life, Logan.”

“You must’ve traced the tip. Where’d it come from?” Veronica asked.

Mark paused sheepishly. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you that. Hey, if it were up to me … but this is an on-going investigation. Look, I need to ask the two of you what happened last night.”

“He doesn’t remember anything,” Veronica said, waving her hand at Logan, a signal for him to let her take the lead. Sparingly, she led Mark through the events of the shooting, how she’d identified Dohanic as the suspect, and followed a lead to his girlfriend’s house on Euclid.

“Do you know anything about a suspicious van lurking around the girlfriend’s place? Some of the neighbors called the cops …”

Mark sat up as his chair thudded to the floor. Veronica sat back, a grim look of satisfaction on her face as she crossed her arms. Logan looked back and forth between them.

“What the hell is going on?” he demanded.

“You had the Delgados under surveillance, didn’t you? But they caught on to you – a big, windowless van parked for days in that neighborhood is bound to attract attention. That’s why whenever Logan came by looking for Sean, the house was closed up tight, like no one was home. So what led you to them, anyway? The anonymous tipster?”

Mark held up his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, but this has to stay between us. My boss will have my badge if he finds out I said anything to you,” he said, sliding his eyes in Logan’s direction.

“You can trust him – he’s with me.”

Nodding, Mark explained he’d put a team on Delgado after observing several meetings with Dohanic. “Turns out, Delgado’s been doing odd jobs for the coalition ever since his brother got him work as their office janitor more than a decade ago.”

“If you were watching them, why didn’t you pull Sean out of there? You must’ve known what that bastard was doing to him,” Logan said, his voice low and ominous.

“It only happened once that we knew of, and Sean wasn’t seriously injured. We had bigger fish to fry. We couldn’t risk scaring them off. As it was, your little schoolyard scuffle with Delgado sent him and Dohanic running.”

Logan leapt up, knocking over his chair as he lunged across the table, but Veronica grabbed his arm, pulling him back. “Logan, don’t. He’s a federal agent. It’s not worth it,” she said, dragging him towards the door.

“You don’t know what you’re doing and I won’t have you compromising my investigation,” Mark warned. “Stay away from this case, Vee.”

She turned and glared at him. “Don’t call me that,” she hissed. She started to stalk away, but turned and added, “You need to update your files.”

Logan whirled on her as soon as they were outside. “You don’t believe that asshole, do you? You could run rings around him in your sleep. If he’s the reason you left …”

“God, no. I don’t care what Mark thinks. Although, he does have a point. We could get in some pretty big trouble for interfering with a federal investigation. You could be jeopardizing your job, or even …”

“… Delgado and Dohanic disappeared from right under his nose, so excuse me if I don’t put much stock in his ‘federal investigation,’” Logan bit out. “One boy is dead, and Sean could be in danger. I’m not leaving it to Agent Dickhead to find him.”

Veronica smiled. “Okay, let’s do this,” she paused. “But maybe we shouldn’t mention this to my dad…”

“If that Mark guy thinks you’d actually drop this, he’s dumber than I thought,” he huffed, getting in her car.

Later, when they were pulling away from the Sheriff’s Department, he glanced at her. “This is going to screw up your chances of getting back in with the FBI, isn’t it?”

“Probably.” She shrugged, flashing him a mischievous grin. “It was just a stupid ol’ job anyway.”

The sky had darkened by then, and when her stomach rumbled Veronica realized dinner time had come and gone hours ago. She pulled into Cho’s Pizza and they ordered a large Peking duck pie. They were still waiting for their pizza when Veronica’s cell rang - it was Leo.

“Got anything for me?” she asked.

“We’ve identified the body, but you did not hear it from me. You can assure Logan it isn’t Sean.”

“That was fast.”

“There was a plastic library card in his pocket. It hasn’t been confirmed, yet, but we found a missing persons report from three years ago that matches our body down to a broken arm. He was twelve when he disappeared, same age as Sean.”

“What was his name?” she asked, certain she already knew the answer.

“Stephen Forbes.”

Numbly, she thanked Leo and hung up. Logan took one look at her pale face and lowered his slice of pizza. “Veronica, what’s wrong?”

“That lying son-of-a-bitch,” she hissed.

He quirked a brow. “Your friend Agent Chandler, I presume? What’s he done, now?”

“Bogarted my case!” She grabbed her bag and stood. “Come on, we’ll take the pizza to-go. We need to go back to my place.”

In the car, she told Logan the body in the basement had been tentatively identified as Stephen Forbes. “Before I left the FBI, I wanted to look into the disappearance of two boys, who both went missing from Southern California and ended up in Arizona.”

She explained how Christian Baxter had died of a drug overdose, his body found in a downtown Phoenix flophouse. The teenager had been from east L.A. – just like twelve-year-old Stephen, who’d disappeared from his foster mother’s home and had been missing - until now.

“They were both foster kids with geography in common, all things easily explained away as coincidence,” she said, pulling into the Sunset Cliffs parking lot. “It was just a hunch I had, and I was practically laughed out of the FBI when I wanted to dig a little deeper, and now that snivelling weasel is investigating my case.”

Still fuming, she stalked up the stairs to her apartment with Logan keeping pace beside her. She quickly unlocked the door and threw it open, heading straight for her room. After several minutes rummaging through a large box, she withdrew two files, and smirked grimly. “Lucky for us, I made copies.”

“Okay, so what now?” Logan asked.

“First, I make some phone calls, then we go to L.A.”

While Logan opened the pizza box and got them drinks, Veronica talked to Mac, who told her the encryption used on the files she’d downloaded from Dohanic’s computer was more sophisticated than she’d anticipated.

“I can crack it, but it’s going to take me a little longer. Give me another 24 hours,” Mac said.

She made a few more calls, including one to her dad to let him know they were headed out-of-town for a couple of days, then sat on the couch next to Logan to finish their dinner. “We should stop by your place to pack a few things. I’m not sure how long we’ll be in L.A.”

They’d decided to pick-up where previous investigators had left off. She’d arranged to meet with Stephen Forbes’ social worker, who’d never been interviewed by the detectives in charge of his case. While they were in L.A. they could also talk to Christian Baxter’s friends and teachers.

An hour later, they were on the road, headed north on I-5. Since it was late, traffic was light and Logan guessed they’d get to the hotel by midnight. They drove in silence, and when Veronica glanced over at him, she saw he was still awake.

Earlier, she’d instinctively averted any discussion that would reveal the true nature of her relationship with Mark. To her relief, Logan had gone along unquestioningly – either he didn’t suspect anything, or he’d opted for their usual don’t-ask-don’t-tell routine. But now, she realized they were slipping into the same old pattern of half-truths and unspoken suspicions that had eventually led to all their break-ups. Making up her mind, she took a deep breath.

“Look, there’s something you should know,” she began.

Logan had been staring out the window, just about to drift off, but her solemn tone made him turn. He leaned against the door and waited expectantly.

“I was going to say something earlier, but we got interrupted and well…Mark and I … we dated. Briefly. I would’ve told you about him before, but you never asked and it was so not important. Honestly, until he turned up today, I hadn’t even thought about him since I left D.C.”

Logan said nothing, but she thought she could see the faintest hint of a smirk. “Yeah, I figured as much,” he said, a trace of amusement in his voice. “You don’t owe me any explanations, Veronica. It’s none of my business who you were with. I wasn’t exactly celibate, either.”

“I know, but … I don’t want you to think I was hiding anything.”

“I didn’t think that,” he said, taking her hand and grazing the knuckles with his lips.

Later, when they were laying wearily side-by-side in their Pasadena hotel room, he turned to her and whispered in the darkness. “Is Mark the real reason you left D.C.?”

“What? No.” Veronica propped herself on one elbow to face him. “Why would you think that?”

“I know you said it was no big deal, but you quit the FBI and came running home.”

“I quit the FBI because it wasn’t right for me. I got tired of the bureaucracy, the politics and the career-climbing. I came home because I realized I’d made a huge mistake leaving the way I did, leaving you.”

Tenderly, he brushed hair from her face, a small smile tugging on the corner of his mouth. “Dumb question. I don’t care why you came back. I’m just glad you did.”

**********

The next morning, they woke early and walked to the patisserie in Old Pasadena where Veronica had arranged to meet Elizabeth Sloane.

“Call me Beth, please,” she said, clearing a stack of files from the table and gesturing for them to sit. Veronica guessed the social worker was in her late 20s, probably only a few years out of grad school, still young and idealistic enough to spend a Sunday afternoon meeting with two strangers loosely connected with one of her old cases.

“So, how do you know Stephen?” Beth asked.

Veronica carefully explained how they’d become acquainted with Stephen’s case, but when Beth hesitated, she opted for candor. “A body was found under a house in Neptune, and there’s a good chance it’s Stephen,” she said, gently, adding that another boy was now missing.

Beth’s eyes watered, but she quickly swiped away the tears. “I’m not supposed to be doing this, so I’m going to take a leap of faith that you will be discreet. Stephen’s case always bothered me. There was something weird going on at home and … well, I was beginning to suspect abuse when he went missing.”

Beth repeated what Veronica had already learned from the investigating officer: Stephen had been abandoned by his mother and left with his stepdad, who’d conspired with a family friend to gain custody and a piece of monthly checks from the county.

“Wanda O’Neill was nothing more than an overpaid babysitter, and the stepdad was always hanging around although he didn’t live there. If I could have, I would’ve yanked Stephen out of there a long time ago. But he had a roof over his head, food and clean clothes. At the time, it seemed better than the group home.”

“Group home?” Veronica asked, her antennae raised.

“CPS put Stephen in a group home for about a month while the custody issue was being settled,” Beth explained. “There are hundreds of small, privately-run homes that get public money to provide temporary shelter for kids caught up in the foster care system. It’s a mess. You don’t want to get me started.”

“Do you remember which home he was in?”

Beth thought for a moment before naming one in east L.A. and Veronica made a mental note to pass the address along to Mac. While she was scribbling down the information, Logan asked a question of his own. “What made you suspect he was being abused?”

“It was a lot of little things. He had sudden fits of anger, he often seemed frightened and startled easily. Stephen was also very guarded. In fact, I first started to suspect something was up after an incident at school. A teacher caught him in a lie and there was some big brouhaha.”

They left Beth to continue laboring over her reports. By then, it was well into the afternoon and they still had to pay Stephen’s foster mother a visit. Luckily, traffic was light and it wasn’t long before Veronica parked in front of a tiny, ramshackle house in a rundown neighborhood.

Wanda O’Neill looked to be the very picture of a kindly, doting grandmother. Her silvery grey hair was wrapped loosely in a bun at the nape of her neck, and several loose strands framed her pleasantly wrinkled face. She answered the door brushing flour from her crisp, pink apron as if she’d been in the middle of baking.

“Can I help you?” she asked, a slight frown creasing her forehead.

“Hi. My name is Lisa and this is Bart. We’re students at UCLA trying to earn some course credit by helping with a research project on California’s changing demographics. We were hoping you might have some time to answer some questions?” Veronica prattled off their cover story without batting an eye.

Wanda blinked at them blankly. “Um, I guess so. Would you like to come inside?”

“This won’t take long at all, I promise,” Veronica brushed past her and Logan followed mutely behind. Settling on an ugly, blue floral couch, she produced a notebook and began firing off questions. “How many people are living in this household, ma’am?”

Logan stood abruptly and, after asking for directions to the bathroom, disappeared down the hall.

“I’m sorry, who are you again?” Wanda asked Veronica, her brow furrowed in confusion.

Veronica repeated herself, and began peppering the older woman with more questions. Gradually, however, she realized something was wrong. When Logan reappeared fifteen minutes later, she hastily wrapped up the interview and they left.

“Find anything?” she asked, when they were in the privacy of her car.

He held up his hand, a 4x6 photo fixed between his fingers. “Just this.”

She plucked it away, looking impressed. “I always wanted my own Gal Friday,” she murmured, examining the photo. “Where’d you find it?”

“In what I’m guessing was Stephen’s room. The place was completely cleared out, but it was behind the bed. Recognize anyone?”

Three boys standing under a tree grinned for the camera, their arms draped across each other’s shoulders. Two of the boys appeared to still be in grade school, while the one in the middle had the complexion of a kid who’d reached puberty. Although he looked a few years younger than the school picture Veronica had seen, she instantly recognized the oldest boy – a gangly teen with shaggy blond locks – as Christian Baxter. He was flanked on one side by Stephen Forbes, and a baby faced Sean Delgado on the other.

“Oh my god. They all knew each other,” she breathed.

“What do you want to bet they’re at one of Levi Stinson’s receiving homes?”

She peered at the photo again, this time taking in the single-story, cement block building in the background. “I’d take that bet. I wonder if there’s a way to figure out which one. When we get back to Neptune, I’ll see what Mac can do to with this,” she said.

“There’s something else. I’m pretty sure Wanda O’Neill has Alzheimer’s or some form of dementia. She kept getting confused, and couldn’t answer really basic questions.”

“Yeah, I kinda figured something wasn’t quite kosher when she kept calling me Brian. So what’s our next move?”

Veronica’s phone beeped, signaling a new text message, and she read it hurriedly. “Thank you, Leo,” she murmured. “I asked him to get me a copy of the missing persons report on Christian Baxter. He emailed the full file, but in the meantime, he’s texted a few key details, so we’re headed to Garfield High School. I want to talk to the teacher who filed that report.”

They were in Garfield High’s administration office asking to see Christian Baxter’s English teacher, a woman named Angela Campos, before the last bell rang. The secretary’s face registered shock even as she stammered Mrs. Campos no longer worked at Garfield.

“You should speak with our principal,” she instructed, ushering them into his office.

“I’m sorry … but Mrs. Campos died almost two years ago,” the principal explained once they were seated. “It was a terrible tragedy for our school. She was a very popular teacher, the students adored her. Such a waste.”

“How did she die?” Logan asked.

The principal shook his head. “She was killed in a robbery. It happened in broad daylight. She stopped at a 7-Eleven to buy a pack of gum and was gunned down along with the clerk. Utterly senseless. They never caught her killer.”

A sudden sense of foreboding came over Veronica. “When exactly did this happen?”

The principal thought for a moment before answering. “It’ll be two years next week. I remember it was during spring break, because we had to bring in grief counselors as soon as classes started again.”

Veronica stood, thanking him for his help, silently ushering Logan out of the office. They drove back to the freeway in shocked silence. “I need to get my hands on that police report,” she finally said, merging into traffic. “From what the principal said, Angela Campos was killed just days after reporting Christian missing. It’s no coincidence.”

“Dohanic killed her, didn’t he?”

She nodded. “You filed a missing persons report and triggered an investigation. You said you went looking for him just the other day. It must have made Dohanic nervous … He made Angela Campos’ death look like a robbery gone bad. Yours was supposed to be a hit by the Fitzpatricks.”

“Jesus …” Logan leaned back, rubbing his forehead. “So what secret are they hiding?”

“I don’t know, but I think those boys did and …”

“…they had to disappear,” Logan finished grimly.

It was dusk by the time they got back to Neptune, and Veronica still had one more stop she wanted to make. She took the exit for Logan’s school, driving past aging strip-malls and low-rent apartments, before turning into what had once been a charming, old neighborhood of bungalows and boxy post World War II homes.

As they approached the school, she switched off her headlights and parked across the street from a large lot surrounded by a chain link fence. A ramshackle Craftsman in the rear had bars on the windows and video surveillance cameras mounted on at least two corners of the building. A flash of movement near one of the bulldozers proved to be a very large and serious-looking security guard.

“This place is locked up pretty tight for a children’s home that hasn’t even been built yet,” she remarked. “What do you think is in that house over there?”

“I think Charlie said their plans include a new headquarters.”

“What I wouldn’t do to get inside …”

“…Veronica,” Logan warned.

“Relax, I’m not going to break in. At least not until I can get a better lay of the land.”

“You’re not going to break – or trick – your way in period, Veronica. I’m dead serious. These people are dangerous. They’ve killed at least two people, probably more, and two boys are still missing.”

“Okay, okay. Man, you’re starting to sound like my pops,” she teased lightly, trying to ease his fears. She started the car and headed towards the ocean. “Maybe Mac can figure out a way to break in digitally.”

**********

Logan had a headache that didn’t abate even after a quick dinner of leftover chicken, so Veronica gave him some aspirin and made him lie down on the couch, his head in her lap.

“Promise you won’t go anywhere,” he said as he drifted off. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“I promise. I’m just going to … organize a bit.”

When his slow, even breaths became soft snores, Veronica carefully extricated herself and got to work. She retrieved an empty cardboard box from the laundry room and raided Logan’s office for supplies. Index cards, markers, tape, clips all went into the box, which she carried back into the living area, where she could keep an eye on Logan and use the wall of floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the Pacific Ocean.

Veronica worked quietly, dragging a console table in front of the windows and replacing the leather ottoman with two end tables pushed together in front of the couch. Satisfied, she sat down next to Logan, opened her laptop and spread out the files she’d taken from the apartment. Occasionally, she’d copy names, dates and significant details in her neat, bold print onto yellow, blue and white index cards.

Next, she grabbed the tape dispenser and turned her attention to the glass wall, arranging her notes – color-coded to differentiate between the dead, the missing and those under suspicion – into a rough timeline. She added newspaper clippings streaked in neon yellow highlighter along with Dohanic’s mugshot and photos of the boys.

Gradually, a chilling chronology took shape, obscuring the condo’s panoramic ocean view.

“You were a busy little bee.” Logan’s low murmur broke her concentration, but she smiled as he kissed her hair and snaked his arms around her waist. She savored the warm, solid feel of him, but the moment was interrupted by the chime of the doorbell.

“That’ll be Mac. Keep your fingers crossed she found something juicy,” she called out as she opened the door.

“Have I ever let you down? I just have to run one more program.” The computer whiz jerked her head towards her companion. “I brought reinforcement.”

“And I brought sustenance,” said a grinning Wallace as he skillfully balanced two large pizza boxes and a six-pack of beers.

They made their way to the living room, where Logan greeted the newcomers and relieved Wallace of the pizzas. He started to clear a space on the ottoman by shoving aside Veronica’s files.

“Hey watch it there,” Veronica protested, swatting his hands away from her paperwork. “These are highly-classified FBI files. Touching them could land you in a federal pen.”

Logan kissed her on the nose. “Seeing as how you stole them, I think I’ll risk it.”

Mac settled the issue by moving the pizza and files to make way for her laptop. Moments later, she was deeply engrossed, her fingers flying over the keyboard as she worked. The others chatted amicably while eating and knocking back bottles of beer.

After finishing a third slice, Wallace crumpled up his napkin, tossed it neatly into a trash can and turned his attention to the murder board.

“Hey, Veronica. You going to tell us what’s going on, or do we have study all this on our own?” he asked.

Veronica smiled indulgently at her friend. “Okay, but pay attention. Mr. Echolls might spring a pop quiz.”

She told them about Christian and Stephen, briefing her friends on what she and Logan had discovered in L.A.

“We don’t have anything that ties the boys with the Stinson Center or Dohanic, for that matter. Our best piece of evidence is the photo Logan found. We need to figure out where and when it was taken,” Veronica said.

“Do we have a rough idea when they could’ve met?” Mac asked.

Veronica shrugged. “Best guess? Four or five years ago. We know that Stephen and Christian were both living with foster families when they disappeared in 2006. They went missing within months of each other. Stephen was 12 at the time, and Christian had just turned 15. We’re still looking into where Sean was. Mac …”

Just then the front door banged open and a half-naked Dick strode in carrying a surfboard. He stopped short when he saw everyone. “Ooooh look, Scooby. The gang’s all here,” he said, jovially, eyebrows arching as he took in the rearranged living area.

“Love what you’ve done with the place, Ronnie. Got that thrift-store-meets-CSI vibe going. I’ve been telling Logan this room needed a woman’s touch.” He grabbed a slice of pizza and sauntered into the kitchen in search of beer.

Ignoring him, Veronica turned to Mac. “No pressure, but find anything, yet?”

Mac sat back and nodded slowly, her face troubled. The others crowded behind her, and she pressed a key.

They all watched in horrified silence as grainy images of children in various stages of undress appeared on the screen. In all there were two dozen photos, mostly of boys no older than 10. Many of them were bound to beds or inside closets, and they all shared the same piteous, blank stare.

“For what it’s worth, none of the photos are of Sean, Christian or Stephen,” Mac told them.

“Are they all like this?” Logan asked, grimly.

Mac shook her head. “Not quite.” She tapped the mousepad and another slideshow began to play, this time showing scantily-clad women, some posed suggestively and others obviously engaged in sexual acts. There were three more photos: a row of parked cars including a red Porsche, silver Honda Pilot and a black Mercedes SUV, a bodega storefront, and a beach.

“There’s also this, but I’m not quite sure what it means, yet.” Mac tapped a few keys and a spreadsheet opened revealing a list of names and two columns of numbers, which she quickly began scrolling through.

“Wait a sec. Go back a little,” Logan said. “I think it’s a donation list.”

“How can you tell?” Veronica asked.

He pointed to a name they both recognized – Harvey Greenblatt. “He’s a Hollywood agent,” he explained to Mac and Wallace. “That number next to his name is the same amount he donated to Charlie’s teen center. Plus, look at the dates. A lot of these are right around the time of year rich people suddenly become charitable – just before they have to file tax returns.”

Peering at the screen, he identified a few more prominent Neptune citizens. “Judging from the names here, this Levi Stinson place has a lock on every ‘09er in town.”

Suddenly, he frowned. “That’s weird.”

“What?” Veronica squinted over Logan’s shoulder.

“See how the numbers jump around – go from a thousand to fifty grand? Most nonprofit lists are the same. There’s a bunch of small donations, anything from $500 to $2,000 with a few big ones, usually from big corporations, or the estate of someone who passed away. But these are all private individuals giving away $50,000 a pop. There must be millions here.”

A careful examination of the file revealed even larger donations spanning several years. Mac did a quick tally and they whistled at the staggering dollar figure. Then, near the bottom of the list, another familiar name popped up – and this time it was one they all knew.

“Woody Goodman,” Mac said bleakly, her voice trailing as she looked up.

They all followed her gaze to see Dick staring at them from the kitchen, his jaw tense. “What about the pervert?”

The usually blithely unaware party boy put down his beer as he joined them, standing next to Logan, who placed a sympathetic hand on his friend’s shoulder.

Veronica soberly reported the dead fast-food millionaire had written a $100,000 check to the Levi Stinson Center a few years before getting elected to the county board of supervisors. She concluded Lucky must have been Woody’s connection to Dohanic and the non-profit.

“Oh my god. Woody’s son - he was what eight or nine years old? I could’ve sworn Gia said he was adopted…what if he was actually bought?” Checking the date again, she sat back grimly. “He donated that money during our sophomore year when Gia was in boarding school. By then, Cassidy … and the others on the Little League team, were all grown up.”

“So what does all this mean?” Dick asked.

“The center is nothing more than a pipeline for pedophiles,” Logan spat out angrily. “These group homes are in the perfect position to find vulnerable kids they can siphon off to a bunch of sick fucks. They probably make a killing off the county checks alone. And when the kids get too old, Dohanic makes sure they go away.”

“How can a bunch of kids just disappear?” Dick asked.

“Because they’re foster children, who were either orphaned or tossed aside by their own families,” Veronica said. “Think about it. Foster kids usually go from one home to the next for years. It’s easy for a few to slip through the cracks when the system that’s supposed to take care of them is vastly underfunded and understaffed.”

“So what? They’re like  _ invisible children _ no one even misses?”

She nodded, mildly taken aback by Dick’s rare display of empathy. “We can also be pretty certain the center is a front for some sort of prostitution or high-end call girl ring. Harvey Greenblatt is one slimy dude, but I’ve witnessed his preference for nubile bimbos.”

“At least now we can nail those bastards,” Mac muttered, her voice low and angry.

Veronica said nothing. She leaned in front of Mac, frowning as she scrolled through the photos again, this time taking in more details. The children in the images were all alone, and none of the men in the other pictures were identifiable. She realized belatedly there was nothing to tie the photos to the Levi Stinson Center, the missing boys or the attempt on Logan’s life. What’s more, she couldn’t find anything in the files Mac had decrypted that could lead them to the puppetmaster pulling the strings. She straightened and swore.

“What’s wrong, Veronica?” Logan asked.

“Aside from Dohanic’s highly-illegal porn stash, there isn’t enough here to accuse anyone else of anything but excessive spending,” she said. “It’s just a list of wealthy do-gooders giving away money. Some of these are probably legitimate contributions.”

Logan stood abruptly and walked to the wall again, his gaze fixed on a newspaper article about the discovery of Christian Baxter’s body. “Where’s this from?” he asked Veronica.

“I found it on a public records database, but it was originally published in the Arizona Daily Republic. Why?”

“I’ve seen it before. Sean was using the computer in my classroom one day and he was looking up newspapers in Arizona. I recognize the paper’s masthead.”

“You didn’t mention it before. When did this happen?” Veronica demanded.

“Yeah, well I forgot until now. It was a while ago … I - I think it was the day I went to see Duncan, right before you came back.”

Veronica grabbed a marker and scribbled something on a blank index card, taping it to the wall. “So it was a few weeks before he went missing. Was that the only time?”

Logan thought for a moment before slowly shaking his head. “I don’t know. He was hanging out after school a lot, cleaning up in the classroom or working on stuff for the paper, and he did use the computer. But our server is set up to block certain websites, so I don’t stand over the kids while they’re online. I just happened to glance at Sean’s screen that day.”

“If you get me the hard drive, I could always do a browser search,” Mac offered. “Of course we won’t know for sure which sites he visited since I’m guessing it’s a public computer, but we could probably make an educated guess.”

“You’d need access to all the computers, I assume,” Logan asked.

“All the computers?”

“Yeah, it’s a newspaper class. We’ve got 10 desktop computers and two laptops.” He paused. “Would it help if I told you the kids have to log-in with their own usernames? The school monitors everything they do down to the last keystroke.

“Hmm I can work with that,” Mac said.

Wallace leaned forward on the couch. “Hold up, V. We have the photo. It proves these kids knew each other. Why is Sean’s internet history so important?”

“It might not be. On the other hand, Sean was probably looking for Stephen, too, and his searches might help us figure out how and where they knew each other.” Veronica turned to Mac. “What do you need to hack into the school’s server?”

“I’ll need access to Logan’s computer. Is that going to be a problem?”

“Not if we go now,” Logan said, checking his watch. “The campus is empty this time of night. I can let you in. Even if we get caught, I can always say I’m working late and you’re helping me download something.”

“Come on. Let’s skedaddle,” Veronica said. “There’s something else I want to check out while we’re there.”

“What do you want us to do?”

They all turned in surprise towards Dick. It hadn’t escaped Veronica’s attention that Logan’s roomie lurked around the living room nursing a beer while they discussed the case. Now, he gestured to Wallace and looked at her questioningly.

“Hey man, don’t look at me,” Wallace protested. “I like to lay low during Vee’s covert ops.”

Veronica appraised Dick thoughtfully. “Hang tight. We may need you two later on.”

Mac was soon steering her silver Prius away from the condo towards the school. They were still a couple blocks away, but they could see the construction site for the Levi Stinson Center directly across from the driveway into Logan’s school. The street was deserted except for a few unoccupied cars.

“Is there a back way into the school?” Veronica asked Logan.

“Yeah. There’s a staff parking lot behind the cafeteria. Turn here, Mac.”

The hybrid stealthily turned into a narrow driveway leading behind the school’s main building, and moments later Mac pulled into a spot shielded by a large equipment shed. “What was with the evasive maneuvers, Veronica?” she asked, locking her door.

“Just a precaution. No need to alert anyone we’re poking around at the school, especially anyone at the Levi Stinson Center.” Veronica did a quick survey of the school grounds and checked the time. “Mac, can you access Sean’s browser history from any campus computer, or do you need to be at his terminal in Logan’s classroom?”

Mac shook her head. “Any computer will work. Why?”

“Because I need to go to the principal’s office … and I want us to stick together for the time being. Lead the way, Mr. Echolls.”

Rolling his eyes, Logan unlocked a heavy, metal security gate with his faculty key and led them through the open air hallways, past the quad to the main building, where he unlocked a set of double doors. He used the same key to access the staff lounge, which had a connecting door to the administration office.

“What I wouldn’t have done for a key like that back in high school,” Veronica murmured.

“Yeah well, that’s all I’ve got. You’re on your own getting into the principal’s office,” he replied, nodding towards a closed wooden door behind the reception desk.

“Not a problem.” She produced a small, leather case from her bag and pushed past him. “Always be prepared.” Moments later, the lock clicked and she pushed open the door.

Mac made a beeline for the desk and was soon tapping away on the keyboard, while Veronica headed for a row of file cabinets on the other side of the spacious office. Logan followed her, leaning against one of the metal cabinets.

“You were a Boy Scout, too?” he mocked in a low voice. “I bet I got more badges than you.”

Veronica scoffed, but didn’t stop opening and closing drawers, rapidly skimming through files. “Please, like you were ever a Boy Scout.”

“Believe it or not, I was. Mrs. Casablancas was our den mother. Uh, Dick’s mom ... not Kendall.”

She stopped abruptly. “Shut the front door! “Dick was in the Boy Scouts?”

Logan chuckled. “Yeah, but Duncan was the only one who made Eagle Scout.”

“Of course he was.” She smiled and resumed rifling through the file cabinet. “So what happened? Did you get kicked out for streaking the girls’ camp across the lake?”

“Nah. I quit when I realized all the cute ones had a thing for bad boys.”

“Of course you did. Has the Bad Boy Association of America revoked your membership, yet?”

“I just broke into the principal’s office with my girlfriend - the private dick. My bad boy standing is fully intact.”

Veronica turned and arched a single brow. “Never call me that again.”

Grinning, he opened a drawer. “So what are we looking for, anyway?”

“Sean’s file. I need more background on him.”

Veronica pulled a file from the drawer, stifling a cry of triumph. Mac finished copying files onto a flashdrive and shut down the computer just as Veronica stuffed her photocopy of Sean’s student records into her bag. The three of them left the way they came.

Fifteen minutes later, they were back at Logan’s condo. Veronica headed straight for her laptop. The others gathered behind her as she plugged in the flashdrive and scanned the list of websites Sean had accessed since the start of school. She automatically dismissed most of them - NBA blogs, anime streaming, music videos on YouTube - and zeroed in on newspaper sites. He’d searched the online archives for the L.A. Times and Arizona Daily Republic for both Stephen and Christian’s names as well as some place called Hope House.

“It’s another group home,” Veronica said.

“I’ll bet that’s where Sean and the other boys met,” Logan said. “It’s not far from Stephen’s house and Christian’s school.”

Veronica almost closed the file, when she spotted another search Sean had made for Richard and Elena Delgado. She opened her Internet browser, typed his parents’ names and was rewarded with several hits from the Times and a small, weekly paper in Malibu. Both newspapers had covered the accident that had killed the young couple as they travelled up the Pacific Coast Highway for a weekend getaway.

According to police reports, Richard Delgado, 35, was speeding north when he missed a curve, causing his silver Honda Pilot to plunge over the cliff into the ocean below, killing him and his pregnant, 35 year-old-wife, Elena.

“Oh my god. They killed his parents, too,” she murmured in horror.

“Fuck,” Logan breathed.

Dick looked around at the others, perplexed. “Hey, Miss Marple - I don’t get it. Explain please.”

Mac opened her computer and quickly scrolled through Dohanic’s photos, locating the one of a silver Honda Pilot in a parking lot. “It should be easy enough to verify, but that’s probably the Delgados’ car,” she said. “Makes you really wonder about the other two pictures.”

Veronica stood abruptly and ruffled through a stack of files before locating the one she wanted. She scanned it for a few moments, before checking the photo on Mac’s computer. “The Garfield principal got it wrong - it wasn’t a 7-Eleven. Christian Baxter’s teacher was killed at a bodega on 7th Avenue in Boyle Heights.”

They all stared at the photo of the small market storefront and the block letter words on the window in faded red paint - 7th Avenue Bodega.

“Fuck,” Dick said.

No one said anything, but silently they all agreed with him.

“Why would Dohanic keep these photos?” Mac asked, finally.

Veronica shrugged. “Insurance, in case his bosses tried anything, or leverage in case he ever got arrested and needed something to deal with.”

She turned back to her laptop, hit a few keys and scanned an obituary for Richard and Elena Delgado published a week after their deaths. “Sean’s parents were both attorneys for Truman-Mann on Wilshire Boulevard.” Another search revealed Truman-Mann clientele consisted “primarily of Fortune 500 companies” and specialized in corporate law offering assistance with business disputes, asset protection and taxation issues.

“Sounds exciting,” Veronica said sarcastically. “In other words, they make frivolous problems, like taxes, go away for rich, white guys.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Dick asked.

Logan stared at her for a moment. “You know, one way rich, white guys avoid paying taxes is by giving away a bunch of money to charities … like the Levi Stinson Center.”

“Mac …”

“...Already on it,” Mac said. The room fell silent except for the tapping of the keyboard, as everyone watched the computer programmer work. A few minutes later, she looked up, a smile of satisfaction on her face.

“Okay, I think I’ve got it straight. Remember that list of private corporations and nonprofits you gave me to sift through? Well, it seems Truman-Mann represented a shell company that was part of another group that collectively donated millions to the Levi Stinson Coalition.”

“Great work, Mac,” Veronica started.

“There’s more. Up until a few months ago, the Coalition listed its headquarters at the same address as Hope House.”

“What? I thought they were based in Neptune.” Veronica asked.

“They will be - once they finish building their new digs,” Mac replied.

Wallace stood from his perch on the couch. “So we did it. We solved the case. Now it’s up to the sheriff to find the bad guys, right?”

Veronica shook her head. “I got those photos by breaking into Dohanic’s apartment,” she answered, glumly. “Even if I hand over what we’ve got, I’m not sure my dad or the FBI can use any of it. Besides, we still don’t know who the mastermind behind the operation is.

“Mac, were you able to find any more information on Levi Stinson?” she asked.

“No,” her friend responded. “He completely disappeared. His name is all over the paperwork for those nonprofits, but I couldn’t even find a photo, or a driver’s license. It’s like he doesn’t exist.”

Wallace piped up again. “Couldn’t you just dump the center’s phone records - you know, like you did before - and trace …” His voice trailed off as he caught the slight shake of Mac’s head.

“What are you talking about? When did you …?” Instantly alert to the flurry of furtive glances, Veronica fixed her two closest friends with a hard stare. “Alright. Spill.”

Mac could only shrug, lamely. “Uh, well…”

“... It was my fault,” Logan stepped in. “I made them do it.”

“You?” Veronica asked. “Since when … never mind. What exactly did you make them do?”

“It was back when you took off to find Duncan. I just needed to know where you were - that you were okay.”

“What did you do, Logan?” Veronica’s voice rose dangerously.

“Hacked into the computer at the Sheriff’s Department and looked at your phone records – home and cell.” He watched her jaw drop as she stared at him for several long seconds, speechless. Finally, he cleared his throat. “So - how pissed are you?”

Bemused, she considered a moment. “Not pissed. Strangely … aroused.”

Logan’s brows arched in surprise and his lips curled in a slow smirk.

“Hey, now. The rest of us don’t need to be hearing none of that,” Wallace interrupted, horrified.

Veronica suppressed a smile before turning to Mac. “How’d you sneak into my dad’s office to get the password?”

“I didn’t sneak anywhere. I don’t do field work, remember? Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dumb over there planted a key-logger program, and I did the rest remotely, from a safe distance,” Mac replied, jerking her thumb towards Logan and Wallace.

Veronica looked at Logan, tilted her head and raised her eyebrows expectantly. He shrugged. “I distracted the deputy while Wallace downloaded the program.”

“Let me guess. Deputy Debra? Works the night shift, pretty, blonde ...”

“That’s the one,” Wallace said. “Batted his eyelashes a few times and had her eating of his hand.”

“Of course he did,” Veronica murmured, shaking her head and smiling affectionately. She turned to Mac. “Think you can do it again? I want to get into the computer files at Hope House.”

“How are you gonna do that?” Dick asked.

Veronica eyed him up and down then looked at Wallace. “I have an idea.”

Early the next morning, Veronica was back on I-5 headed north to L.A. with Logan beside her and Dick and Wallace in the back seat of her Saturn SUV.

“Not that I’m complaining, ‘cause this is kinda fun, but why do you need us?” Dick asked.

“Because Dohanic knows who Logan and I are, and they’ve probably got our mug shots hanging up in the office. We need you two to be our beards.”

“Sounds kinky … I like it,” Dick said.

“You and Wallace are going to distract whoever’s at the front desk, while I slip in, find a computer and download the key-logger program,” she explained.

“Veronica, you’re not going in there alone,” Logan said, warningly.

“Yes, you’ve already made that perfectly clear. That’s why you’re wearing the hoodie and baseball cap,” she said, trying to keep the annoyance out of her voice. “But this would be a lot easier if you’d just let me do things my way. I’ve done this kind of thing hundreds of times. I know what I’m doing.”

“You’re not spying on a cheating husband. These people are killers, Veronica. There’s no way in hell I’m letting you go into their lair alone and unprotected.”

“I wouldn’t be unprotected. I brought my tazer.”

“Oh that’ll do a lot of good when Dohanic’s got his gun on you.” Logan gave her a hard, pointed stare, but refrained from mentioning the last time she’d faced an armed killer with only a stun gun.

Veronica shivered involuntarily and any further protest died on her lips. “Okay, you win … You’re right. I could probably use some backup.”

Wallace leaned forward and clapped his hand on Logan’s shoulder. “I’d mark this moment in your journal, if I were you, ‘cause it ain’t gonna happen again.”

Two hours later, Veronica parked across the street from Hope House, a series of low-lying, cement block buildings situated against a hillside covered in trees, shrubs and dried weeds. The building front and center was painted a cheerful yellow and glass double doors appeared to lead into the administrative office. Grabbing her camera, she trained the telephone lens on the office doors and squinted into the viewfinder.

They watched the comings and goings at Hope House until shortly before noon. At one point, a food delivery van pulled into a driveway, the driver unloading the contents into a large, storage room on one side of the central building. Except for a couple of people dressed in casually conservative clothes, who Veronica guessed were social-workers, there was little activity at the group home itself. But Hope House was situated in a commercial area, surrounded by restaurants, small mom-and-pop shops, as well as a supermarket and coffeehouse just a block away.

Veronica noted security cameras fixed on the entrance, but unlike the construction site across from Logan’s school, Hope House didn’t seem to have a security guard.

“Slight change of plan,” she said, smiling smugly. Quickly, she outlined her new strategy. When employees began leaving for their lunch hour, she turned to Dick and Wallace. “You know what to do?”

Wallace rolled his eyes, but Dick flashed a grin, lifting his shoulders nonchalantly. “Piece of cake.”

“Okay, give us five minutes, then go in,” she told them.

Veronica and Logan got out of her car and made their way across the street, then headed for the storage room, carefully avoiding security cameras. She easily picked the lock, and they slipped inside. Moments later, they were huddled in a janitor’s closet just outside the reception area, peering through a crack in the door.

“Lucky for us, the receptionist is just Dick’s type,” Veronica whispered. “More importantly - she’s the kind of girl who think Dick’s her type… He does know how to be charming, right?”

“I don’t know if I’d call it charm, but he does have a certain allure … with some women.”

Then, right on time, they heard the front door burst open and saw Dick jogging up to the counter. “Hi, I was wondering if you could help a guy out. My friend and I are totally lost, and unlike some men, I’m not afraid to ask for directions.” He flashed a disarming grin and extended a hand. “By the way, my name is Richard.”

Dick proved he could indeed pour on the charm when needed, and it wasn’t long before he’d lured the receptionist outside, where Wallace was waiting in the idling Saturn, a map spread on his lap. Quickly, quietly, Veronica and Logan slipped past the front counter, locating the computer. She plugged in the flashdrive and got to work, while Logan kept watch. “Veronica, we gotta go. Hurry it up,” he said after a few minutes.

“Just. About. Done.” Triumphantly, she jerked the drive out of the USB port and they crept carefully down the hall, just as a bell on the front door jingled, signalling the receptionist’s return. Veronica opened the first door she came to, and shoved Logan inside.

They found themselves inside what looked to be an abandoned office. A fine layer of dust covered the large, wooden desk, and various wires strewn on the floor nearby proved there’d once been a computer. Boxes were stacked along the wall next to half-empty shelves. Logan was gingerly testing a second door, and when it opened into another empty room, he reached for her hand and grasped empty air.

Veronica’s attention was riveted on a framed 8 by 10 photograph on one of the shelves. The edges were yellow with age. Dust and grime smeared the glass, but Veronica could still make out Richard Delgado’s smiling face. Handsome and young, his dark features stood out among the four much older, white men. They were all dressed in suits and holding champagne flutes, as if toasting a momentous occasion.

“Veronica,” Logan hissed in a low voice. “We gotta go.”

She grabbed the frame, stuffed it into her bag, and followed him into the other room. Carefully, they made their way back to the storage room, exiting the building the way the came in. Once outside, their pace slowed as they reached the sidewalk and turned the corner, where Wallace and Dick waited in her car. They jumped in the back, and Wallace drove away, steering the Saturn towards I-5.

“How’d it go?” Veronica asked.

“Just like the man said. Piece of cake.”

“Better,” Dick chimed in. “I got Stacie’s phone number. We’re going out Friday night.”

Veronica rolled her eyes as Logan chuckled. She quickly called Mac to let her know the mission was a success.

Once they got on the freeway, she reached for the photo and removed it from the frame so she could see it better. This time, she noticed the men were in a hotel ballroom, where a dazzling, crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling. Nearby tables boasted silver candelabras and floral centerpieces, and she could just make out a banner in the background, announcing the first annual gala fundraiser for the Levi Stinson Center.

Her eyes scanned the faces of the other men, but she didn’t immediately recognize any of them. Only one man - a tall, husky, imposing figure with a slightly receding hairline and a salt-and-pepper beard - looked vaguely familiar. A gnawing suspicion took hold.

“Have you ever met Darian’s father?” she asked in a low voice.

“Oh sure. She introduced us at a dinner party right after I sullied her reputation and got my ass kicked by my dad in high school,” he replied, bitterness in his voice. “No, Veronica. I never had the pleasure.”

“I thought he gave Charlie money for his teen center. You didn’t meet him then?”

“He did all of that through Darian. They were supposed to be at the fundraiser that night, but I never got a chance to thank them … Someone distracted me. Why all the questions about Darian and her dad?”

Grimly, she handed the photo to Logan. “Anyone besides Richard Delgado look familiar?”

Logan studied the photo for a few minutes, shaking his head slowly. Suddenly, his eyes widened. “Is that … ?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“But you worked for him. Don’t you know for sure?” Logan asked. “You solved that spoilers problem for him.”

“He signed my check, but I worked with Darian. I only recognized him because she has a photo of him on her desk, and I remember noticing the family resemblance.”

“Okay, so what does this mean?”

Veronica shrugged. “Nothing, I guess. It’s just weird. Darian made it sound like he’d only recently gotten involved with the center, but this photo has to be at least eight years old.”

They hit rush-hour traffic, doubling the usual travel time to Neptune. Logan dozed, while Veronica gazed unseeing at the cars around them, turning over the details of the case over in her mind. It was late by the time they got back to the condo, and they were all starving, but Veronica wanted to check in with Mac first.

“I don’t have anything for you yet, Bond,” Mac said, staring at her computer screen. “There’s plenty of stuff here, but nothing incriminating, as far as I can tell. It’s almost as if …”

“... What?”

“Most of the emails and documents are pretty recent, like within the last few days, and so far it’s strictly day-to-day business dealings. It’s very … sanitized. Like they knew we were coming and they wiped their files.”

“Or they knew the FBI was investigating the center,” Veronica said, angrily. “I don’t think you’re going to find anything, Mac. Today was just a huge waste of time.”

“Not so, Ronnie,” Dick sing-songed. “I’ve got a date.”

“Come on,” Logan quickly grasped her hand. “Let’s go pick up some food before you kill Dick.”

They were still holding hands as they walked around the Saturn parked in the carport and started across the street to Logan’s Range Rover. They were halfway there when a beat-up mini-van suddenly pulled up, screeching to a halt beside them.

Dohanic leapt out of the open door, grabbing Veronica from behind as he pressed something hard and cold into her ribs. She didn’t have to look to know it was a gun. She opened her mouth to scream, but he tightened a steely arm around her throat and the only sound that came out was a strangled croak.

“Unless you want your pretty girlfriend to get a bullet to her gut, you’d better get in,” Dohanic hissed to Logan, who hesitated, fists clenched. Dohanic jabbed her hard with the gun, and she squealed, her body jerking in pain.

“Okay, I’ll do whatever you say. Just dont’ hurt her,” Logan said, all bravado suddenly gone. Dohanic shoved Logan inside, and made him sit in the center bench, while he sat in the back, his arm still firmly around Veronica’s neck, gun now centered on her chest.

No one noticed the towhead watching with growing alarm from the window.

Inside the condo, Wallace and Mac heard Dick shouting for them to call 9-1-1 as he ran outside and jumped into his convertible. “What the fuck?” Wallace asked, but Mac was already calling Keith.

Delgado drove quickly, but cautiously, through Neptune heading inland towards Sean’s neighborhood. He scowled, but said nothing as he steered the van. Logan turned toward Dohanic, but the man ordered him to face front, and he quickly complied.

“Look, she doesn’t know anything. She’s not a part of this. Just let her go,” Logan said.

“Right. I know she stole my computer files in Australia, and she’s been leading you around all over L.A. and Neptune. Nice try, though. Gotta give you props for trying to save your girlfriend.”

“Where are you taking us?” Veronica asked.

But neither Dohanic or Delgado said anything else until they pulled into the garage of an old ranch-style home in an older neighborhood somewhere on the outskirts of town. Once the garage door closed behind them, the two men shoved their prisoners into the house, locking them in an empty room.

“Are you okay?” Logan whispered, and she nodded mutely, her eyes roaming over the room. Iron bars designed to keep out burglars covered the single window, preventing their escape. He searched the closet, hoping to find a weapon of some sort, but it was empty. In desperation, Veronica tried the door, jiggling the knob to no avail.

He whispered her name and she quickly crossed the room. She slipped into the circle of his arms, and for several, long moments they just held each other in silence.

They both jumped when they heard someone unlocking the door. Dohanic threw it open and strode inside. “Time to go, lovebirds.” Motioning with his gun, which he kept aimed at them, he prodded them towards the door.

Suddenly, they heard a flurry of activity outside. Car pulled up, doors slammed and a voice called Dohanic’s name. Even over a blow horn, Veronica recognized her father’s strong, clear voice. “This won’t end well for you, Dohanic. Let Veronica and Logan go, and no one will get hurt.”

She blinked back tears even as relief flooded through her. Just then, Delgado through the back door and took off running across the backyard. He was scrambling over the fence, when a deputy yelled for him to halt. Delgado didn’t aim, just began shooting wildly. More gunshots sounded and in moments he was slumped on the ground.

Even from a distance Veronica knew Delgado would never get up again.

Dohanic moved to the window, peering outside before quickly shutting the blinds. He looked at Veronica, moving to grab her, but Logan blocked his path. He pushed Veronica through the open door into the hallway. “Run!” he yelled, as he tried to close the door.

She hesitated, then sprinted towards the front of the house, disappearing around the corner. Enraged, Dohanic backhanded Logan with his gun, knocking him to the floor. “Stand up. You’re coming with me. You’d just better hope the Sheriff likes you enough not to shoot me.”

He locked one arm around Logan’s neck, shoved the gun against his head and together they began walking towards the garage door. Inside the garage, Dohanic ordered Logan to open the passenger side door, and pushed him inside. “You’re driving,” he said, watching as Logan slid behind the wheel.

Just as he started to climb in beside Logan, a blurred figure rushed out of the house and came up behind Dohanic, some sort of stick raised above its head. Veronica shouted his name, taking a swing just as he turned and a loud, terrible crack filled the garage. Dohanic went down, his head hitting the hard concrete with a thud, and Veronica kicked the gun away, sending it skidding across the floor.

She raised the golf club, rested it on her shoulder and let out a shaky breath as she looked up at Logan.

“You didn’t actually think I’d leave, did you?” Veronica said, only slightly out of breath.

**********

When they emerged from the house, hands raised, it was Keith who rushed out with a SWAT shield to escort them behind the barrier of cop cars. He embraced his daughter in a bear hug and managed to pat Logan on the shoulder before EMTs forced him to sit on a curb as they examined his bleeding head.

Later, after Dohanic had been cuffed to a gurney and whisked away under armed guard to the nearest hospital, Logan and Veronica sat huddled in the back of another ambulance. She fussed with the heavy gauze wrapped around his head, shaking her head. “That was a stupid thing to do, Logan. He could’ve shot you.”

“Right, but it was smart to hang out with a golf club instead of letting the guys with guns take Dohanic down.”

“It worked, didn’t it?”

“Veronica …”

Their argument was put on hold as Keith strode over, his face grim. “Later on, we’re all going to have a long talk about following orders, and it may or may not end up with the two of you behind bars,” he scolded. “In separate cells … For now, you should go home. I’ll have Sacks escort you home and stay with you for the night.”

“How did you find us?” Logan asked.

“Dick Casablancas saw Dohanic grab you. He trailed him here, and called me on his cell phone.” Keith sighed, and put a hand on Logan’s shoulder. “Listen, there’s something you need to know.”

Gently, in the kindest way he knew how, Veronica’s dad explained that the body of a teenage boy had been found wrapped in tarp and buried in the backyard. “From the description and clothes, we believe it’s Sean. I’m so sorry, son.”

Logan stood abruptly, avoiding Veronica’s embrace, as he turned to stare at the house. “When?”

The Sheriff shook his head. “He’s been dead for awhile, Logan. There was never anything you could’ve done.”

Choosing the most inopportune moment, Mark Chandler strode up, flashing a smile as he whisked off his dark sunglasses, brushing dust from his navy blue suit. Veronica’s eyes narrowed, and not for the first time the words “huge mistake” flashed through her head as she stared at her ex.

“Well, looks like this case got wrapped up nice and neat. Thanks for the assist, Vee, but I can handle things from here.”

Logan lunged for Chandler, but before he could reach him, Veronica’s fist crashed into the FBI agent’s jaw with a resounding “thwack.”

“I told you not to call me that,” she spat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took about a nine year hiatus between Part IV and V (better late than never, no?) so if it's disjointed, that's why.


	6. Epilogue

Veronica stood back and surveyed the small, two-room office. A wooden desk sat facing the entry from beneath a large window overlooking Downtown Neptune. A nearby file cabinet held a fax machine and printer, while shelves filled with penal code books, framed diplomas and Veronica’s P.I. license lined the walls.

A small alcove housed a dorm-sized refrigerator and cafe table as well as a coffee maker and microwave. To the right of the desk, another door led into a private office where two smaller desks stood face-to-face.

The bell above the entry chimed and Veronica turned to see her friend pushing open the door, holding a box of computer parts under one arm, a paper bag in the other.

“Need help, Q?” she asked, rushing to help Mac.

After deciding to officially reopen Mars Investigations and setting-up shop in an actual office, Veronica was surprised when Mac offered to share the space in exchange for her computer and technological expertise.

“I’d like to venture out on my own, but I need a little more seed money, so I’ll do a few consulting jobs on the side until I can quit Kane Software for good,” she explained. “Besides, I like the jobs you give me - they’re pretty fun.”

The women spent the next several hours unpacking boxes and settling into their new office. When they were done for the day, they sat at their desks munching on pizza.

“How’s Logan doing?” Mac asked between bites.

Veronica shrugged. Although it had been weeks since the showdown at the abandoned house and Dohanic’s subsequent arrest, they had yet to move in together. She’d been staying with him most nights, but she hadn’t wanted to push the issue in light of everything that had happened.

“He’s been … broody,” Veronica said, frowning as she gazed out the window. “Dad has been keeping us posted, and I’m not sure that’s been a good thing. Logan’s taking Sean’s death pretty hard.”

According to Dohanic, Delgado had killed his nephew just a few days after the confrontation at Logan’s school.

“Apparently, Sean had been asking too many questions about Stephen and Christian. They met while Sean was at Hope House for a week after his grandmother died, and they’d stayed in touch,” Veronica explained.

“Once Delgado realized he was getting close to Logan, he was afraid Sean would spill the beans.

Dohanic had been singing like the proverbial canary. He’d been the right-hand man for the center’s shadier dealings for the better part of two decades. In addition to confessing to killing Richard and Elena Delgado because they’d both grown suspicious of the center, Dohanic also admitted to shooting Anna Campos.

“Did you ever figure out what that third picture - the one of the beach - was about?”

Veronica nodded. “The Mannings hired Dohanic to find Duncan and kidnap Lilly. The beach was in Mollymook, not far from Duncan’s home.”

When the FBI had raided the group homes, they found they’d all be wiped clean of evidence, just as Veronica had feared. Computer hard drives were erased, papers shredded and burned.

“The good news is, Dohanic is willing to turn over his files to make a deal with prosecutors, so there shouldn’t be a problem with those sticky rules of evidence,” Veronica said.

They’d been right about the Levi Stinson Center and several of its affiliates being a distribution hub for human trafficking. While some children had been sent to legitimate foster homes, the ones who had no family to come looking for them had been vulnerable to men like Woody Goodman. Many of the monetary donations on the list they’d found had also turned out to be from well-intentioned donors, and the FBI was kept busy tracing the origins of every dollar.

She’d also given her dad the photo of Richard Delgado and Darian’s father. Quietly, with some help from Mac, she’d done a little more digging on her own. It turned out, Luther Cross was every bit as enigmatic as Levi Stinson. Where the religious leader’s life suddenly left off, the rising Hollywood producer’s story began.

The FBI’s computer experts had stumbled upon a few jumbled references to the two mysterious men and were now secretly pouring over financial statements as they investigated Cross for fraud, human trafficking and murder.

Logan made sure the press knew how Sean had died while his uncle had been under surveillance by the FBI.

“After Mark botched the case and let Delgado slip through his fingers, Fineman took him off the case,” Veronica said. “So that’s good news. There’s a pretty decent chance Darian’s dad will actually get prosecuted.”

Mac nodded. “The funeral was … nice. I know that’s a weird thing to say, but it was a nice tribute,” she said.

As if the death of a twelve-year-old boy wasn’t heartbreaking enough, Sean’s body had lain in the morgue unclaimed for a week. With no next of kin, the coroner’s office would have turned it over to the county for a pauper’s burial, but community leaders protested as they scrambled to raise the money for a funeral. Then out of the blue, the director of Neptune’s finest funeral home took responsibility on behalf of an anonymous benefactor.

Sean Delgado was laid to rest a few days later in a Los Angeles cemetery next to his parents and grandmother.

“Excuse me, I’ve got a delivery for Veronica Mars.”

Startled, she looked up to see a man holding out a clipboard for her to sign with one hand, the other clutching a potted plant which he set on the counter.

She gasped in pleasure as she pulled away the tissue paper wrapping. A single orchid blossom balanced delicately on a thin stalk, its violet black petals contrasting darkly with the plant’s broad, green leaves.

"Very unique - very you," Mac observed.

Veronica knew immediately who sent the lovely gift, but she was still pleased when she saw the card.

_ I thought a Venus Fly Trap was more fitting, but the florist didn’t have any. _

_ Go figure. _

_ Happy sleuthing in the new digs. _

_ Love, Logan _

Laughing to herself, she resisted the urge to call him knowing he was probably in class, and resolved instead to close early so they could have a nice, quiet dinner at home together. A few hours later, Mac had gone home and she was alone studying a canister of orchid food, frowning as she read the instructions, her back to the door.

“Try not to kill it,” a low masculine voice drawled. “I think we’ve had enough bloodshed, don’t you?”

Smiling, she turned around to see Logan leaning against the door jamb. As he pushed away and strode over, his words sparked an idea and her grin widened.

“It’s beautiful. I love it.” She turned her attention back to her boyfriend and wound pale, slender arms around his warm neck. “You made my day.”

He smiled softly. “How ‘bout I make your night, too? Maybe a celebratory dinner with your dad at that fancy French place you like so much?”

“Only if there’s dessert – you know, afterwards.”

“Definitely,” he said with a chuckle, bending to capture her lips. When they broke apart, he lifted his head and drew back to meet her eyes, his expression serious. “Listen, I’m sorry I’ve been such a bear lately … I haven’t scared you away, have I?”

“I don’t scare that easily.”

He nodded slowly, searching her face. “Does that mean you still want to move in with me? ‘Cause I’m gonna have to do some serious spring cleaning to make room in my closet for all your stuff.”

Leaning forward, she nuzzled her nose against his. “Better start cleaning then.”

Later, after dinner with Keith, they lay naked in bed, their bodies spooned together, his arm draped over her hip. He was drifting off to sleep, when he heard her voice.

“Did you know the  _ Cote D’Argent _ in France has 160 miles of virtually uninterrupted sandy beaches?”

“… Wow,” he mumbled sleepily, his voice muffled in her hair.

“You can get there from Paris on a train that goes right through the Loire Valley, which is famous for its castles.” She turned to face him, and he stirred to burrow further into the down-filled pillow, still refusing to open his eyes. “I was saving up for an apartment and most of it went into the office instead, but there’s a little left over and, well … I happen to know school gets out for the summer in exactly six weeks.”

One gold-flecked eye popped open and peered at her. “Got something in mind?”

“I think we should take a trip together.”

“Finally! A plan I like.” He propped his head up on an elbow, boyish excitement in his eyes. “So, are we bound for France?”

“Maybe, unless you have another idea. Just as long as it’s not Canada, or Mexico …”

“Gotcha - someplace off-continent.”

“Exactly.”

Logan studied her for a moment. “What prompted this sudden wanderlust?” he asked, lightly brushing her cheek.

Veronica shrugged, a slow smile spreading across her face. “Just something you said … a long time ago.”


End file.
